


Alone for the Holidays

by Birdish



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Adorable Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Father's Day, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fourth of July, Halloween, Love Confessions, M/M, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Roxas and Ventus Are Twins (Kingdom Hearts), St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving Dinner, They have crushes on each other, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Vanitas Appreciation (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas Is Bad at Feelings (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas Swears (Kingdom Hearts), holiday fic, they dunno how to pine because they’re just awkward like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdish/pseuds/Birdish
Summary: After accidentally destroying Ventus' art project, Vanitas has to find a way to make it up to him...even if that means being his date to the annual Thanksgiving Dinner party.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 174





	1. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> Is swearing rated E for everyone?  
> Might change the rating later, nothing frisky happens, it's just a lot of fluff. 
> 
> This is based on that prompt that flies around every holiday season. You know the one, "inviting a fake significant other to the family dinner party"
> 
> ALSO, I saw a post on Twitter where someone was talking about Vanitas at a Thanksgiving dinner enjoying having a momentary found family and I just thought it was the cutest thing, so shoutout to OP! (I would tag you if I could find the tweet, if anyone knows what I'm talking about, hook a girl up)
> 
> Edit: @_oathbreaker! [Found the tweet](https://twitter.com/_oathbreaker/status/1199186314530361344?s=21)

It was in the first five minutes of Thanksgiving Break that Vanitas set himself up for failure.

He’d all but bolted out of his English 460 Seminar, thoughts of the long weekend ahead, promising hours of solitude, video games, microwaved turkey dinners…

His mind was in the clouds, lost in the euphoria of sweet, sweet daydreams, and unfortunately, so was the other person before him. It was some sort of sick, twisted fate that the only person on the entire campus that Vanitas would have given his right arm _not_ to barrel into was there, as though waiting, as he rounded the corner.

They collided, and there came a _rip_ , a **clatter** , a yelp. The rip of the canvas was more painful, more irritating, than the sloshing of the paint, stark blue against Vanitas’ black sweater. They clattered to the ground, a disheveled heap of hissing groans and throbbing, stinging knees. _Shitfuckseriously_. Vanitas could feel the anger pooling, growing with the throbbing pain in his knee, and unfortunately for the surprised student before him, he didn’t care to quell the impulse to yell.

“Are you an _idiot_? Don’t they have carts to carry your shit? Why are you so close to the wall?”

Vanitas went to stand, wincing at the growing pain, and with another torrent of abuse growing, he looked down to the disheveled art student, almost relishing in a sort of sadistic glee. He was going to _drag_ this kid.

_But._

He knew that face, those wide eyes, that spiky blond hair. His eyes, almost intuitively, went to the small, blue Wayfinder tattoo, hiding, as though frightened, behind the man’s left ear.

Ventus, the TA from Introduction to Art. The ever-encouraging cheerleader, the one who’d tell Vanitas “good job” even if he just splashed some black paint on a canvas and called it a day.

The young man in front of him was speechless, his downcast gaze going to the rip in the canvas, to the paint. Gently he stroked his fingers over the tear, his usual playful spirit evaporated in Vanitas’ fiery anger.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” tentatively Vanitas returned to the ground, collecting the spilled paintbrushes, righting the overturned can of blue paint. There was already a large azure puddle on the sidewalk, a growing stain, evidence of the collision. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Ventus perked up, and Vanitas, blinking, tried to hide the spark of surprise. Is that all it’d taken to rouse the assistant from his apparent despair? Already that familiar, friendly smile had returned, already Ventus seemed repaired, as though with just six words all the wrongs had been righted, forgiveness given.

“You’ll make it up to me?”

“Yea, sure, whatever.”

“Really?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Vanitas didn’t expect to see such a mischievous glint in Ventus’ eyes, didn’t expect the request that followed.

* * *

Roxas, likewise, hadn’t expected his younger brother to bring a date to Thanksgiving dinner, let alone a date that looked like he worshipped the 80’s punk scene.

Ventus, arm wrapped around the dark flanneled, ripped jeaned stranger, introduced the man with zeal, and like yin and yang, they entered the party, seeming like two cards from opposite decks. As the night progressed and Isa finished cooking (because God knows the rest of them had destroyed Thanksgiving Dinner the past couple of years), Roxas watched the man with a growing glare. Vanitas spoke quietly to Xion, apparently they shared a passion for horror novels. _Typical English majors_. 

“You and him are…dating?” Roxas mumbled as he prepared the table, laying the cutlery down with focused precision.

“Yup.” Ventus placed the large serving bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, used a spoon to take a quick bite, and smirked at Roxas’ discouraging glance.

“…. why?”

“Why not? Vani is a good guy, we met at school, we talked, we’re dating. It’s how life goes.”

Roxas looked at the man, watched as he accepted a shot from Lea, readily knocking the liquor back without flinching _or_ smiling.

“Yea…life…”

They finished setting the table just as Terra and Aqua arrived, bringing with them an autumn-themed bouquet and small, homemade pies. Ventus, almost proudly, presented Vanitas to the nearly married pair, all but shoving the black-clad college student forward.

Terra, with his customary trusting nature, warmed to the young man immediately, complimenting the sheer amount of effort it must have taken to spike his hair. Vanitas gruffly thanked him. Aqua, likewise, with her hand still firmly grasped within Terra’s, was as close to motherly domineering as could be. With narrowed eyes, she introduced herself, and Vanitas met her stare, introducing himself, with a hand around Ventus’ waist, as “this guy’s loving and reliable boyfriend.”

Lea, picking at a roll, stomach growling, on the verge of begging everyone to _please_ sit down, and laughed loudly about the exchange. The laughter, like the fire behind the man’s personality, seemed to lessen the tension, melting the ice of Vanitas’ surprise introduction. They all found their seats at the table, conversations flowing between the partygoers, Ventus ushering Vanitas forward, his hand clasped around the other's. 

As Vanitas sat and prepared his plate, there came a pang of regret. How long had it been since he’d been surrounded by a family, a group of people that wanted nothing more than to share time, laughter, love? He’d only agreed to come to this because 1.) free food and 2.) Ventus promised that all he had to do was sit. But... amid the exciting conversations, the pleasant, gentle euphoria of friendship, guilt began to creep through him, inching its way up through his stomach, up into his throat.

_Why were they deceiving them?_

Xion offered him another roll, gently telling him to eat as much as he wanted.

_They seemed so…nice…_

Lea told a story about the time he’d burnt the turkey, set the whole thing on _fire._ He laughed as he explained how Isa had to douse the entire thing in gravy and flour to keep the kitchen from burning to the ground. Vanitas had to keep himself from laughing, only allowing a chuckle to surface.

_If only it wasn’t all a lie…_

Even Roxas, with a growing, surprising gentleness, seemed to have warmed to Vanitas’ company. They spoke about poetry, about simple, mundane things, and even in the small talk, Vanitas felt as though maybe, he’d been accepted.

And as he ate, and talked, and regretted, he cursed what made it all so clear, so damned perfect. He loved the lack of questions, the lack of prodding. He'd expected to be bombarded about his past, "why aren't you with your family on Thanksgiving?", but they never came. When he did speak, and what he did offer about himself, was listened to and respected. Where he lagged, not wanting to relay something personal, something too intimate, he was granted the privacy and the conversation continued without further urgings.

They were kind, accepting, a found-family Vanitas might have…would have…liked to know more about. 

The teasing began once everyone had eaten their fill, stories of embarrassing encounters, pranks gone wrong. Vanitas was surprised that Ventus, overwhelming, was at the center of most of them.

“Remember when we went to the amusement park and they thought we were Ven’s parents?”

“Remember in 2nd grade when nobody knew Ven and Roxas were twins so everybody just called Ven “Roxas” the entire year and he NEVER corrected them?”

“That’s not as bad as when Ventus fell asleep on that train and ended up five hours away. Nobody had any idea where he was!"

Vanitas chuckled along, an element of fondness growing within him. He nudged Ventus, ready with his own teased statement: "I knew you were an airhead but come on man", but paused. He knew, just from the strained laughter, exactly what his boyfriend-for-the-evening was feeling. He'd been just like him, years spent feigning optimism at family gatherings, years laughing along to jokes that he’d rather gone unsaid. Seeing the hint of delay in Ventus, the attempts to hide the embarrassment, the urge to stand up and yell, _shut up, can’t you see he’s uncomfortable_ was hot on Vanitas' tongue. But, with fists clenching, he paused. That would just embarrass his host. That would just make it worse. If just for one night he had to cool his hot-headed urgings, tonight would be it.

“I’ve got my own story of a royal fuck up. When I first met Ventus I crashed into him and destroyed his painting,” there was labored silence, and Vanitas pushed through. “Spilled paint all over the courtyard, tore my fist through his painting. I just stood up and walked away because I was so uncomfortable.”

The silence stretched, and then Roxas laughed, and with his amusement, the others joined in, and the moment passed. 

“That’s how you seduced him?”

It seemed right enough, so Vanitas nodded. _Of course_ that’s how they’d have met. _Of course_ that’s how they would have fallen for each other. By his side, Ventus smiled, his cheeks cherry red, and to make it all look real, to put the _real_ cherry on top, Vanitas draped his arm over his companion’s chair, gave him a quick, and what he hoped was charming, wink. Ventus, with a laugh, told him to stop, and for a moment, it felt real, as though it wasn’t a con, a faked reaction.

“Ok, first date story. Go.” Lea leaned back in his chair, and Vanitas blanked. Ventus, without pause, launched into a story, a well-crafted lie that sounded so real, so probable, that even Vanitas was lulled into the tale, lost in the romance of it. 

But as he watched, listened to the fibbed, outlandish first date, some coffeeshop shenanigans, a familiar pain settled in his heart.

Just as he’d been back home, here, he was just a prop.

Something to be shown off, and then discarded.

* * *

Vanitas stood on the back patio, the snow crunching underfoot, the sliding of the door bringing the sounds of chatter and music.

“Is everything alright?” there was worry in Ventus' tone, an apprehension to approach. Dinner had passed and with it, Vanitas had excused himself. He'd been outside for twenty minutes, and Isa, with a short glance, told Ventus to go check on the man, "lest he freeze to death." 

“Can I _go_ now, just tell them I had some family emergency or something.”

Ventus faltered. There was a tension in his companion's shoulders, an irritation hot and aggravated in his voice.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. You’ve already helped me enough.”

But Vanitas didn’t move, he stayed, like a statue, with his arms crossed. Ventus started forward slowly, closing the distance between them.

“I’m sorry for using you like this. If that’s why you’re mad I get it,” he labored through the apology, his cold hands twinning together. “It was a dumb plan, I know."

“Why are you doing this? Why are you lying to them?”

The retort, though spoken in anger, calmed something with Ventus, moved him forward to stand in front of Vanitas. Knowing the man before him had such a strong sense of loyalty, of honesty, was rectifying in some way. It felt good to know, to have it confirmed, that the jaded, stoic person he'd come to know, at the core of it all, was empathetic, was _good_. 

“I’ve always been a third-wheel with my friends. Didn’t realize it until they got married, I feel like some bratty kid saying this but…everything changed. I noticed that everyone was doing their own thing, coupling up...Isa and Lea, Roxas and Xion," he kicked at the ground, momentarily averting Vanitas' gaze. "I’ve never really been much for dating, but with everyone being together…I just…didn’t want to be alone.”

_So the ray of sunshine is selfish._

“You could have just invited me as a friend you know, this whole boyfriend schtick is…pretty wild.”

Ventus laughed despite himself, and Vanitas glared at him, the anger still pooling in his amber eyes.

“I read about it in a fanfic once, I didn’t really…think it out…”

“Idiot.”

Ventus was used to Vanitas’ gruff attitude, he’d heard horror stories about it: curses over small things, threats over the slightest offense. It reflected in the art the man produced, splashes of black and cuts of red, emotion bleeding from the page...But Ventus knew that that couldn't be all there was to Vanitas. He couldn't be wholly darkness. Maybe Ventus had been the only one to see, to take the time to notice, how attentively the bristling student looked when he was painting, the calmness in his expression, the almost gentleness in his eyes, the precision in the way he stroked the brush across the page…

“I’ve wanted to talk to you like this for a while,” Ventus looked to the murky slush, not wanting to see the reaction in the amber gaze. “I liked having you here, I don’t feel so out of place...I’m glad you said you’d do this for me.” The words fell flat between them, sinking into the snow. 

_You’ve already started, might as well finish._

“We should meet up for coffee, maybe collaborate…You can write a poem and I’ll draw. I always thought that sort of thing would be fun, I dunno, it’s kind of dumb…”

Vanitas’ breaths, fogging in the November chill, marked the lackings of his response. Ventus, spirit crumbling, felt the urgency to leave. _He’d messed up, came on too strongly._ He turned, cheeks warm, a shuddering spasm of anxiety fighting its way up his spine. _So embarrassing._ But then, in the chill, came the gentle tug against his arm, the even softer pull against his hand. Ventus lingered, felt his palm enclosed in a hand much warmer than his, and with an embarrassed glance he looked back.

“Get some gloves, your hands are freezing.”

It was a good enough approval as any.

“I was going to ask for some for Christmas.”

They were silent, save for the poundings of both their hearts, a sharp twinge of anxiety that maybe, the other could feel the frenzied pulsations.

Vanitas, behind his stoic expression, was entrapped by the fluttering of his heart. What should he say? A compliment? Something smooth, something genuine.

“I like you aesthetically.”

_Oh God, end me._

“Your aesthetic,” he tried again, cheeks warming, hand tightening over Ventus’. “And I’m sorry I ruined your painting. It looked good, even with the tear. Don’t worry about…using me, I enjoyed myself tonight.” The words, as he spoke, began to melt something within Vanitas, an anger that would take years to fully thaw, but under the warmth of Ventus' smile, his gentle gaze, Vanitas began to defrost, little by little.

“I’m sorry for calling you an idiot.”

Ventus’ hand, wrapped in Vanitas’, had never felt warmer.

* * *

As he stood at the front door saying his goodbyes, Vanitas hadn’t expected the phone numbers, the sincere requests to “keep in touch”. There was a sly smile from Lea, a wink from Xion, that solidified that they’d all known, had figured out, that it had all been fake.

“I told them when you went outside.”

“What even was the point of any of this if you were just going to tell them.”

Ventus laughed, and Vanitas couldn’t help but smile himself. He liked the sound, the pure joy behind it. Maybe he could write some funny poems, draw something funny in class, just to hear that laugh again…

“Vanitas.”

Vanitas looked to the man, his fake boyfriend for the day, and blinked.

“Yea?”

“You should come by for Christmas,” he paused, gave a bashful smile. “Everyone wants you to come. I want you to.”

They shared a smile in the chilled night air, and with a wave, the young punk turned away, already thinking to the future, to the holidays that maybe, he wouldn't have to spend alone, and to the present he’d get for his new, but long-awaited, friend.


	2. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there continuity, we weren't expecting you.

Vanitas liked his coffee black, and Ventus, Ventus preferred hot chocolate.

Vanitas couldn’t deny that he’d thought it was cute when, after he'd declined to drink the sugary, chocolatey _mess_ , Ventus offered to mix their drinks, make them into a mocha, the promises of: “It’s good, I swear, a Valentine’s Day treat” almost deliciously plead.

Vanitas didn’t know why he let him, didn’t let his thoughts linger on it too long. If it was anyone else, he knew how he would have reacted.

_I said no, kindly screw off._

But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Ventus, and for Ventus, he owed an exception.

Vanitas slumped in the cushy, coffeehouse chair (why were they always leather?), his writing notebook resting on his knee as he tried to avoid looking at the person before him. He was already avoiding accidental glances to the table; the places he could comfortably look to were decreasing by the minute, and the paper mache hearts that littered the room weren’t great to look at either.

The gloves he’d gifted Ventus, well, _thrown_ at him, on Christmas, lay neatly, with delicate precision, by one of the cups of mocha.

_Ventus had come to his dorm with a gift and Seifer had answered the door…..joked about the mistletoe….Ventus had laughed and come to Vanitas’ room…._

As his mind lingered, words came to him, scrawling across the page subconscious desires and meanings.

_No, we’re not thinking about that now._

He stilled the inspiration that flowed from his pen, looked Ven’s tray of watercolors instead. They were barely damp, and the blond seemed fixated on sketching with a white crayon. Barely taking his eyes from his work, the assistant reached for the mocha concoction, and Vanitas couldn’t help but trace the movements, his amber eyes peeking over the top of his notebook. In a second, as though he’d called his name, Ventus met his gaze, eyes widening in surprise, the beginnings of pink blush starting along the assistant’s nose, falling like cherry-blossoms down his face…

Vanitas sank deeper into the chair, his eyes burning into the chicken-scratched words before him.

_They were just hanging out. Just meeting up for coffee._

“Well, I can’t think of anything.” Giving up was easier than trying anyway.

“Writer’s block?” the white crayon stilled, and when the duo looked to one another, there was a moment of apprehension.

“Yea, something like that.”

“You wrote something down at least, that’s good.”

“It’s nothing good.”

“Oh come on,” Ventus leaned forward, the small table between them seeming all the smaller. “Let me see.”

_Ventus had given him a gift, and they’d spent some time in his bedroom just…talking. Talking about little things, big things, whatever came to mind. It all flowed without impenitence, hours passing like seconds, and when Ventus looked to his watch, eyes widening, the exclamation that it was midnight seemed unfounded, unrealistic. He’d walked Ventus to the door…turned to grab the gift bag from the coat closet…and when he turned back…_

“ _No_.” Vanitas had to still the _screw off_ that yearned to pass his lips. He sounded childish, even to himself, his insistence hotter, angrier, than it needed to be.

Ventus blinked, sat back in his chair and only nodded, the pink of his face now a shade of red. Was it out of embarrassment....shame? Something pinched inside of Vanitas, a drop in an already large well of guilt, and he spoke quickly, trying to bypass his previous anger.

“Why are you drawing with a white crayon?”

Ventus’ voice was low, his eyes even lower, and he didn’t look from the page as he spoke.

“When I start painting, everything I’ve drawn will still be white.”

It was an expected reaction, the quiet voice and unmet gaze, _pain_.

He never wanted to be the cause of it in Ventus.

And yet, here they were.

* * *

The coffeeshop was closer to campus than it was to Ventus’ apartment, and though he told Vanitas, his eyes on the pavement and his voice low, that he could make it home fine, he didn’t fight when Vanitas stayed by his side as he walked home. Ventus did fight, however, any conversation, and Vanitas, despite his usual appreciation of silence, felt suffocated by it. With idle hands and ever-glancing eyes, the words came from him unprompted, flowing nervously and endlessly.

“Valentine's Day and we both don’t have dates, what’s up with that?”

Silence.

“That’s normal for me anyway, I like being alone during the holidays.”

No answer.

“That can’t be normal for you though, you’ve got tons of friends, none of them wanted to hang out?”

A sniffle.

Vanitas blinked, glimpsed in Ventus’ direction and hated what he saw.

Glassy eyes and cheeks moist with tears. How long had he been crying? How had Vanitas, in his attempts to neutralize the situation, somehow failed to see if his target was even receptive?

“Ventus?”

Ventus jumped, turned away and wiped his face with the back of his gloved hand.

“It’s nothing, nothing. I don’t…I don’t feel too good... Is it alright if I walk home alone?”

“What are you crying for?” Vanitas hadn’t meant for it to sound so patronizing, as though he were scolding, but as always, what he meant never seemed to be what occurred.

“ _Pleas_ e can I walk alone?”

Vanitas stilled, the insistence, the sudden flash of contempt, in Ventus’ voice echoing in his ears. He let him go, let the blond continue onwards as he stood, confused and alone, on the sidewalk. He watched as Ventus, hands in his pockets, tears rolling down his cheeks, walked away, and Vanitas allowed more distance to grow between them before he began to follow. Like Hell he was going to let the guy walk home like _this_ , crying and completely unaware of his environment. He wouldn’t be able to sleep well if he did that. And anyway, his growing worry, and the overwhelming feeling of guilt, would probably kill him if he didn’t.

Ventus lived about fifteen minutes from the coffeehouse, but his labored strides turned the quick expedition into an almost hour-long haul. By the time he’d fished his keys out of pocket and opened his apartment door, night had befallen the city, and a threatening chill had begun to blow.

Vanitas watched the door close and walked home satisfied, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. They were so cold that they hurt, and the thought came whispered and antagonistic: _Maybe you deserve this pain_.

 _Why was he always hurting everyone, everything_?

 _Why was that his default_?

The memories of Christmas Eve blossomed back to life.

_It’d been a peck under the mistletoe, just a shy kiss on the cheek as he turned back to Ven. The blond retreated quickly, bravery spent, falling back with the small, sweet smile, and Vanitas had stared, the giftbag clutched in his hand, his mind blank._

_He stared with breath held, eyes tracing the features of the one before him._

_Stared at that bashful face, to the pink across his nose and the playful grin._

_And he threw the giftbag at it._

Vanitas stilled, his hands shaking.

_He’d put his hand to Ventus' shoulder and nudged him out of the doorway with a “thanks for the gift.” Had he even said goodnight before he shut the door in the blond’s face? They didn’t talk again until after New Years'…and Vanitas had been the one to call….to offer…_

Running in the cold hurt, the frigid air burning in his lungs like perma-frost heat, but Vanitas ran on. He hadn’t made it far, but the small distance felt far enough, long enough, that each step drew on his faults, his errors, all the more. He skidded to a halt in front of Ventus’ apartment, banged on the door, not caring if it disturbed the neighbors, his eyes wide and breaths shaky.

“Ven!” the call came out strained, low and almost pleading, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Ventus!”

He continued to bang, memories of Christmas Eve and the radio silence that followed coming painful and demanding.

“ _VENTUS_!”

The door inched open, a red-nose and pajama-ed Ven coming into view. When he looked to Vanitas, his blue eyes, rimmed pink, opened wide.

“I was lying,” The notebook trembled in his hands, but he pushed it forward, offering it to Ventus’ unsuspecting arms. “I wrote something.”

He kept his eyes down, glued to the _Welcome!_ mat. Ventus didn’t speak, the sound of the notebook pages turning the only response. When he finally did say something, it was to read the beginnings of the poem, or a song, Vanitas hadn’t decided, out loud. Usually, such an act would infuriate Vanitas, cause him to snatch the notebook away, but now, _now_ he could barely move. Breathing felt hard, looking to Ventus even harder, and his body moved with the wild pounding of his heart.

_Breath, should I take a deep?_

_Faith, should I take the leap?_

_Taste, what a bittersweet_

_Let me face my fears_

_Won't be long, won't be long,_

_I'm almost here_

_Watch me cry all my te_

“They’re more lyrics than a poem…I didn' finish the last part.” Vanitas had to force the words out, fighting against the tightening of his throat to speak.

“They’re beautiful,” there was a smile in Ventus’ tone, and as Vanitas’ finally looked up, tentatively looking to Ventus, he was satisfied to see that it was true. “Thank you.”

There it was, that hopeful, cheerful smile than belonged on Ventus’ face. Vanitas wanted nothing more than for the assistant to always be in this state of euphoria, and as he took a deep breath, swallowing any residual pride that whispered into mind, his words _finally_ came gently.

“Don’t….don’t cry….”

_Maybe he should toughen up, he can’t let the world hurt him like this._

“….I never want to hurt you….”

_You can be strong for him, can't you? You can handle it. He's too weak, too kind, for this sort of stuff. You'll have to be the stronger person here._

“…with what I say or do.”

_He’d said….something that’d made him cry._

_He’d thrown a bag at him, pushed him away without a response._

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you.”

Ventus still held the notebook, pressed close to his chest, and there was a moment of silence. Vanitas held his breath, not exhaling until Ventus slowly nodded.

“I hurt myself, don’t worry about it. I had too many expectations, I got my hopes up.”

“Expectations?”

Ventus’ gaze dropped, and his words came mumbled.

“I thought it was a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah…”

“You’d want to go on a date…with me?”

Ventus leaned from foot-to-foot, not daring to meet Vanitas’ gaze. “I thought Christmas made that clear….”

And once again, it was Vanitas’ turn to act.

Ventus tasted like mocha and it was good, no, _better_ , than Vanitas had imagined. Ventus’ face, cupped in his cold hands, burned hot enough to warm the chill. There was the faint taste of salt in the kiss, and Vanitas knew it had to be the tears, the ones built on unspoken ideas, assumed unrequited feelings. He drew Ventus closer, kissing him again and again, each coming slower than the last, his sole goal making it so the only thing either of them tasted would be _their_ mocha.

“Ven who’s at the door?” Roxas’ call seemed to echo. “Xion and I are gonna unpause the movie!”

They pulled away, both red-faced and frazzled, Ventus’ hands gripping the notebook for dear life, and Vanitas, suddenly rigid and paralyzed, seeming seconds away from running.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” Ventus blinked slowly as the blush crept its way through his skin, Vanitas’ words barely seeming to penetrate whatever haze he was under. “Bye.”

And Vanitas fled the scene, just as he’d ran to the apartment he ran away, not knowing where he was going and not caring. After throwing himself at Ventus in the same fashion in which he’d thrown the giftbag, he retreated into the night, his breath coming in clouded puffs behind him, a feeling like fire warm in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> I will not let any of my Kingdom Hearts fics out into this world unless there's a Utada Hikaru song reference.


	3. St. Patrick's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ven is green with envy and Vanitas hosts a St.Patrick's Day party in his dorm room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire series should just be called: I think Vanitas is kind of an asshole in relationships, let’s see how he develops.
> 
> Also, I hope everyone is safe and surviving ok during this quarantine period.

Vanitas had been lucky that day in November when he’d run into Ventus.

Lucky that, despite his prickly persona, he’d been able to somehow attract a person, who in turn gave him a _people,_ who were friendly, understanding, _soft_.

_His opposites._

An entire group that, time after time, were forgiving of his harshities, were patient and willing for him to open, to show, sides he rarely thought to express.

He'd rarely smiled when he got a text, rarely liked the way someone felt when they were touching him, a sure hand wrapped in his, a head rested in the curve of his neck. He hadn’t needed, craved, anyone before.

He’d hardly ever had to look at his calendar, seeing if he was free while the other person on the line prodded: “come on, let’s at least skateboard a little.”

He was barely prepared for the insistence of friendship, of Xion, when she insisted that she, him, and Roxas were “The Darkness Trio.”

It was new.

It was nice.

He never thought he’d have to adjust to the comforts… _the anxieties_ …of having luck. He wasn’t used to miracles.

It’d only been a month and some change, but the thoughts grew louder with each passing day. Whispers turned to shouts:

_What do you do with luck and miracles?_

_How do you make them stay?_

* * *

Vanitas always had a knack for skipping classes, and skipping Introduction to Art was his newest guilty pleasure.

He liked the texts: “Are you not coming today?”; the annoyed scoldings: “attendance is part of your grade!”; the glare, the _pout_ , when inevitably, they’d run into one another.

The fact that Ventus was thinking of him, that was the cherry on top. It meant Vanitas was staying in mind, meant his luck wasn’t going anywhere.

He liked it, really liked it. God, dare say he _loved_ it

He stayed on campus during these skipping escapades, would frequent the second-story of the campus library because it was the perfect spot to be. It was empty, only frequented during finals week when everyone realized _now_ , _now_ was the time to study. Plus, the campus gallery was on the second floor, and _that_ meant, eventually, Ventus would be there.

And when the TA arrived, would spy Vanitas across the room, it was a nice sight to see the momentary pout, the cute glare. He’d rush over...or sometimes he’d try to retreat into the gallery....but he’d always, always, come back to Vanitas.

It was the perfect plan, executed over a week's time flawlessly. It was in the beginning of March when the surprise happened. It sat at Vanitas' table, the one tucked near the back, a mirrored, mischievous glint in their gaze as the two made eye contact.

At first, there was an awkwardness, a slight burst of shock, of guilt, and then antagonism, when Vanitas assumed Roxas was stepping into a protective, brotherly role. They'd hung out, but always with Xion, so why would he go out of his way to meet him alone? Had Ven complained about his little scheme? _Shit_ , was Roxas here to _scold_ him?! _Like Hell he'd put up with that._

Vanitas approached the table, took a deep breath to give strength to his rebuttal, “ _mind your own business blondie, go practice your kickflip_.” but then...Roxas smiled, teased: “I’ve been meaning to tell you, you should have come in on Valentine’s Day and finished the movie with us,” and the tension melted away.

"Don't you have class right now?"

"Yea," Roxas smiled. "Don't you?"

And Vanitas sat, smirked, and they both chuckled.

This became the status quo, and a game, their favorite skipping activity, began. Sitting across from one another and sending the darkest jokes they could think of, the challenge: whoever laughed first, lost.

And also, on a bad day, got kicked out by the librarian, Ienzo.

It was fun, and Vanitas would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Roxas’ company. It came as a surprise when there were times when Ventus, the more excitable of the pair, was the maturer of the two. From Roxas’ protectivity at Thanksgiving, Vanitas had assumed he was the more serious of the two, but after spending time with the skateboard equipped blond it became apparent that his maturity was _purely_ conditional.

Roxas was more apt to crude jokes than his brother would ever be, he fired off quips that rivaled Vanitas' worst. And even better, skipping classes, with only mild prompting from Vanitas, seemed to be Roxas forte, an act his brother would never consider.

Somehow, without even trying, Vanitas been chanced with another stroke of luck.

A real, true friend. It felt good.

And then, maybe it was the luck of St.Patrick, but during a particular raunchy joke, one that sent Vanitas roaring, leaning back in his chair, Ventus arrived.

The look on his face, spotted out of the corner of an amber gaze, as he took in the scene: his brother and his de facto partner, laughing...

 _The flash of insecurity._ _The jealousy._

**Absolutely perfect.**

Was it wrong to thrive off the other man’s hurried footsteps, to live off the way he inched himself closer to Vanitas, closer than Roxas would ever dare, something possessive in the way his hand found its way into the grasp of the secretly giddy punk?

It was a drug and Vanitas never wanted the high to come down.

“Hayner told me about a party Seifer is throwing in your dorm tonight?” Ventus was breathless, his cheeks pink. _Had he run here?_

Seifer _was_ planning a St. Patrick’s Day party in their dorm room, that was true. It was something the RA would probably kick them out for, and apparently, something that’d already spread itself throughout his classmates. Bribing Ansem wasn’t hard though, and the more people who knew about the party, the better. Vanitas wasn’t fond of acquaintance-based relationships, but when it came to a party, where talking was the least of his priorities and drinking earned him praise?

_Game on._

“You coming over?”

Ventus grimaced, and Vanitas already knew the answer, could almost mimick the blond's next words.

“You guys are such a college cliché. St. Patrick’s day isn’t even about drinking, it’s actually…”

Vanitas squeezed the palm in his hand, smiled at the soft touch of gloves.

“If it’s not about getting lucky I don’t want to know,” And at the statement, _Ah, there it is_ , the goal of his words bloomed. Vanitas wasn’t usually a fan of pink, but seeing it splashed across Ventus’ cheeks was enough to warrant appreciation, understanding, of why the color was so popular.

“You can tell me all your little historical facts at the party.”

“We have class tomorrow.” the blush had already spread to Ventus’ neck, its journey easily traceable. _I wonder how far down it goes_ …

“You don’t have to drink Ven, or even come, Xion’s not going, you too could hang out,” Roxas interjection wasn't expected, and Vanitas almost wished he hadn't spoken. He wanted Ventus there, he'd never seen him drunk before.... _what was he like_...

Ventus faltered, looked to the duo with a sudden new, pink-tinged uncertainty.

“But…Vani?”

The nickname, from anyone else, would have warranted a glare. There was something almost too soft, too endearing, about it. _Vani_. It felt misplaced, a name meant for someone else, for a person whose edges weren’t as rigid as his, whose voice didn’t resemble gravel and instead, was soft and kind. He wanted to hate it, wanted to be angry; but where there was supposed to be anger came only the reddening of the tops of his ears.

_I wonder if he’d say that when…_

“W-we’re going to skip.”

Did he like this…feeling? This fluttering in heart, this warmth where he’d grown used to apprehension? He felt….raw. _Exposed_. He squeezed Ventus’ hand and hoped his luck would bring clarity.

In response, Ventus blinked slowly.

“You’ve already skipped eight classes Vanitas.”

“You’re keeping count?”

“I’m going to get in trouble if I keep writing your time off as Inspiration Exploration around campus, plus, it’s not fair to the other students.”

“You’ve been lying for me?”

The thought of it made him want to pull Ventus in for a long, slow kiss. _What dumb devotion. How enticing._ He could almost feel Roxas’ gaze boring into him, warning, _pleading_ : pleaseatleastletmeleavefirst.

“Soon we’ll be robbing banks together, huh Venty?”

Ventus looked to him with a calculated, unwavering stare, the pink of his skin speaking of something other than embarrassment. He went to speak, the words quiet and fumbling over one another. His gaze lingered on Vanitas, and then, almost robotically, onto Roxas. There was a moment of stilled confusion, and as though a decision had been made, he withdrew. Slowly, Ventus took his hand back, his gaze falling back to Roxas as he crossed his arms with quiet, gentle resolve.

Vanitas had expected laughter, maybe a playful shove, and what he received: the withdrawn, unreadable expression, Ventus’ crossed arms, keeping his gloved hands to himself?

It felt like rejection.

_Owch._

“I’ll come,” Ventus spoke slowly, as though measuring each word carefully.

He didn’t chance Vanitas another glance.

“But only to make sure Roxas gets home alright.”

 _Shit_.

The high came crashing down.

* * *

It only made sense that there’d be some tension, that Seifer had to fight to hold back a shout of: “Lamer!” when Roxas walked through the door. It only made sense that they’d drink themselves unconscious, each taking shot after shot, trying to prove strength, resilience.

_Fuckingidiots._

Vanitas’ luck had run its course.

Ansem had _not_ been easy to bribe, and the party had concluded in less than two hours. Vanitas had barely weaseled his way out of expulsion, offering his body (to pick up litter around campus) in exchange for mercy.

Grumbling, he dragged Seifer to his bedroom, all but throwing him onto the bed. The man groaned, but didn’t wake, too drunk to say anything but a gurgled: “DidIbeathim….”

Vanitas, likewise, was painfully sober.

He’d taken one shot, just _one_. He should have savored it, drank it like fine wine, but no. He’d knocked it back like he always did, enjoyed the burn before readily going for more.

But then Ventus had looked to him, a single warning glance that sent a chill up his spine, and he’d refused. Refused a _shot_. At _his_ own party.

 _Ugh_.

As the last of the stragglers vacated the dorm, Vanitas closed the door with a sigh, the sounds of rallied up students echoing through the hall. He didn’t have any of their post-party adrenaline, the feeling of blissful drunkness replaced with unease…guilt.

Ventus had only looked at him one time during the party, had spent his time trying to talk Roxas down or chatting with people Vanitas didn’t know and didn’t care to meet.

It seemed he’d really…. hurt his other.

In the living space came whisperings, and Vanitas felt the all-too-familiar wave of apprehension. There came a gurgled moan, then a softer, almost teasing response, and Vanitas closed his eyes, tried to ground himself for just a moment. _Breathe in and out, in and out. Go talk to him, just talk to him. In and out._ After the pause, he started towards the living space, lingered in the doorway and watched as Roxas, draped across the couch, stirred under his brother’s touch, his eyes flickering open. His gaze had the drowsy glaze of a drunken man, and with addled steps he staggered to the bathroom.

“He’s too drunk to get back home,” Vanitas’ words seemed too loud, too abrasive, for the soft silence between him and Ventus.

“Your couch isn’t big enough for both me and him,” Ventus fiddled with one of the worn, frayed pillows Seifer had stolen from the student lounge.

“My bed is open,” Ventus stiffened, and Vanitas smirked. “What? You worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

And just as before, the teased laughter never came. There was only an indecisive glance.

“I’ll only sleep in your bed so I can wake you up for class.”

“Because you miss me?”

“ _No_. How could I miss you when I get to hear about you from my brother and Xion all the time,” Ventus paused, as though fighting to choke the words out. “How can I miss someone that lets me lie for them?”

Vanitas stilled, blinking slowly, taking in Ventus’ rigid form. The sight brought the slight inkling of something distinct: the realization that he was seeing an emotion he knew all too well.

It was painful to witness.

The hurt shouldn’t have belonged to Ventus, shouldn’t have been residing in his eyes. It was an emotion that Vanitas never wanted to see reflected back at him, not through Ventus’ wavering stare.

But it was there, and Vanitas knew how it’d come to be.

Ventus had given him luck, and in return, he’d gifted him pain ordained in a pretty green bow.

“Well...don't lie for me anymore, if I fail the class because of inadequate attendance that’s fine...it’s not like it was a required course or anything.”

Ventus didn’t look to him, and his fingers still dug into the pillow.

“I see you all the time anyway.” The words, almost growled, finally summoned Ventus’ gaze.

“When we _do_ see each other Roxas is there...and you guys are always talking and making jokes. You make plans that I’m not apart of, it’s almost like you _want_ me to be jealous or something, I can’t...It…it….,” And just as quickly as there’d been anger, the sadness claimed him, lowered his voice and wettened his eyes. “….I can skateboard too you know.”

He rose from the couch abruptly, brushed past Vanitas like a hurried breeze as he headed to the bathroom. _It’s over, I ruined it_. The living room lights were turned off after a moment’s pause, and Vanitas stood in the dark before heading to his bedroom, thoughts screaming and every movement tense. _I ruined it, it’s done._ When Ventus arrived, mumbling about dragging the kitchen trash can over to the couch in case Roxas needed it, he averted Vanitas’ gaze, kept his eyes to the wall as he crawled into bed.

 _He hates me_.

Vanitas sat beside him, listened to the even pacing of his other’s breath, and wallowed in waves of guilt.

_How many sorry’s until the word lost meaning. How many wrongs until there were too many?_

“Let’s go out for breakfast tomorrow, we have time before class.” Actions spoke louder than words, right?

No response came.

“….I’m sorry.”

The ensuing silence felt heavier, thicker, like reservation in death. Vanitas’ heart began to pound, to desperately thud against his chest, and he closed his eyes.

_He’d push it too far. Done too much. Drained his miracle before it’d had time to fully prosper._

“I’ll know you’re really sorry when you stop skipping classes.” The unspoken, _to hang out with my brother_ , resonated just as thickly, and Vanitas went to speak.

In the pause, came a long, drunken groan.

Seifer, from his room, gave a low, rolling moan, and competitively, from the couch, Roxas groaned in response.

_Areyoufuckingkidding._

“You’re both so stupid, holy _shit_ , go to bed!”

There came a chuckle, and Vanitas’ attention snapped back to the cause of his pounding heart.

“…I’m eating a lot, and you’re paying for it,” The blond settled deeper into the bed, _Vanitas’_ bed, and though he looked to the wall, the brush of pink, illuminated by the outside streetlight, was just as apparent as it’d been earlier in the day. “They’ve been fighting since we were kids on the Sandlot…” and the pain, the worry, lifted a bit as Ventus turned to look at him.

Vanitas looked to that appeased blue-eyed gaze and, without having to think twice, gave a small smile in return. Ventus turned back with a comfortable sigh, and Vanitas knew that jealousy hadn’t been the attention he needed. He laid down, and slowly, uncertainty blanketing his movements, slid his hand over his other’s stomach. He pulled him back sharply and relished in the small sound of surprise. _Breathe in and out_. He listened to the sudden uneven breathing of his companion, held him closer with trembling hands. _Affection felt so much better._

“I…I don’t know how to make you stay if I don’t make you…want me.” for the first time in years, his voice sounded satiny, and a wall inside of him fractured a bit, allowing beads of uncertainty to flow through.

There came a hand, lazy, cold, and its touch familiar, against Vanitas’ own. Slowly, it drew his hand upwards, and lips, warm and soft, gave a gentle kiss.

It was a small movement, barely even sensual, and somehow, it was one of the most intimate of touches.

“Just being _you_ is enough to make _me_ want you Vani, you don’t have to try and make me jealous.”

Words left Vanitas, his mind reduced to a jumble of tokened sweetness. How uneven was his breathing, how pink was _his_ face, would Ventus comment on it if he turned and saw?

All he could croak, with cheeks aflame, was: “How bad do you want me?”

And the response? The expected, _finally_ , laughed: “Please shut up.” was all he’d ever wanted to hear.

They lay in silence then, and Vanitas burrowed his face into the back of Ventus’ neck, placed a soft and sure kiss to the exposed flesh.

They lay even as the sound of someone puking filled the apartment.

Was it Roxas or Seifer?

Neither of them moved to check.

“You know, I’d probably be puking too right now if you hadn’t stopped me,” Vanitas words were drowsy and ragged, but sleep seemed like the least of his priorities with Ventus cuddled against him. “You’re my good luck charm, aren’t you?”

Ventus’ calm, even breathing was as much as an answer as Vanitas needed, and with a smile, he too fell asleep.

St. Patrick’s Day had been lucky after-all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas, it is time for grOWTH.  
> You don’t need,,,,to be an,,,,,asshole. 
> 
> When I was editing this chapter I was like: “why did I write Vanitas so frustrated” and then I proceeded to just…leave it in.  
> I’msorry.


	4. Father's Day

“Please no.”

Ventus’ eyes were glued to Vanitas’ cellphone, his gaze bright and glossy with the reflection of the screen. Vanitas leaned toward him, hands groping forward, but Ventus pulled farther away, rereading the message aloud in a slow, calculated voice. His eyebrows knitted together as he took in the message, and with a deep breath, he looked to Vanitas, betrayal heavy over his words.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me about this?” his voice was scarcely louder than a whisper and, once again, he reread the message.

How had such a sweet morning gone sour? Only minutes prior they’d be curled up, warmed by one another, the blankets at their ankles, fingers in each other’s hair….

And now this.

Vanitas groaned and splayed his arms across the bed.

_Why had the message been re-sent? Hadn’t Vanitas' lack of response been enough of an answer?_

“I’d rather you just killed me than read that text again. Here look, I’m in position for you,” Vanitas marked an X across his chest and looked to the ceiling with a groan. “Stake me through the heart, get it over with already.”

“It’s just lunch Vani,” Ventus rolled off the bed, rising with the phone still in his hands, something excitable in the way he hopped to the bathroom. “Never thought I’d get the chance to meet your family.”

“It’s never _just_ anything with Xehanort, and who said you were coming? Who said _I_ was going?”

“From the way this is worded it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice,” the sound of the shower drifted through Ventus’ room, and Vanitas regretted letting the blond check the time on his phone.

“And I know you don’t like being alone with your Dad and I have some time today before my errands, so why not?” Ventus' voice echoed off the shower walls, and already, a thin line of steam was creeping its way into the bedroom.

Vanitas’ fingers dug into the mattress as he thought of his father. Dealing with the man meant headaches and attitude; it meant bitten back words and wishing things were different. His father’s presence meant confronting the fact that he was only important when needed, an afterthought anytime else. Xehanort was a man that thought everyone wanted his sole approval, he was a man Vanitas only talked to when it was absolutely necessary: when he needed money or, in his most desperate moments, when he craved affirmation on whether Flood, his pet back home, was doing alright.

It was ridiculous that he was being all-but forced to have lunch with a father who frequently forgot his son's birthday. Vanitas hadn’t even spent Thanksgiving or Christmas with the man, hadn’t heard from him until a week ago when he'd sent the invitation to lunch. The man hadn’t even come to help him, or at least hire a moving crew, to move Vanitas' stuff out of the dorm once Summer Vacation started. Xehanort probably didn’t even care that Vanitas was living, temporarily, with a group of people he’d met only seven months prior, didn't even think to ask if his son had found a place to stay. What kind of narcissist only came around on the holidays designated for them?

_Happy Father’s Day._

Vanitas listened as the patter of the shower lessened, and finally, with a grunt, rose from the bed. He could see Ventus in front of the counter, pulling out his hair products and lotions, a towel wrapped around his middle, a thin sheen of dampness still moist across his arms and shoulders. Vanitas paused, took in the sight, and with a mischievous smile, crept forward.

He’d bring back the good mood of the morning in no-time. A good scare and joke would lighten the mood.

Ventus rummaged through his products, not noticing the impending doom that inched his way. As arms wrapped around the blond’s middle and, with a chuckle, a cold nose pressed itself to the inner curve of Ventus’ neck, warm lips to the rounding of his shoulder, he tensed.

“If you’re so excited for Father’s Day, you might as well—”

“Please don’t make a ‘Call Me Daddy’ joke,” Ventus rolled his eyes as he reached for a brush and hair gel, his ears reddening. “I’m begging you.”

Vanitas closed his eyes with a sigh. _No fair._ He’d wanted a laugh or, atleast, a surprised yell. He leaned closer, his cheek damp from Ventus’ wet hair. Vanitas’ fingertips stroked the top of the towel and, with a realization, his heart began to pound.

He’d crept forward so casually he hadn’t even thought to consider it, but this was the closest to nudity they’d ever gotten. Ventus seemed lost in the thought of meeting Xehanort, sharp confidence in his eyes as he attempted to perfect the swoop of his hair.

Red-faced, Vanitas pulled him closer, and the blond responded only with a gentle lean of his head, a means of comfort to an emotion he hadn’t yet recognized.

* * *

Ventus’ hand was reassuring against his as they walked from the table; it was a constant through the panic, a limiter to the rage. He could feel Xehanort’s gaze upon them, a consistent burning, an itch he’d never be able to scratch.

“I think he liked me.” The excitement from before had lessened, replaced by a newfound, almost defiant, understanding.

Lunch had been…. rough….but not terrible. For Ventus, it was eye-opening, a sudden realization that he and Vanitas had lived different lifestyles before college, that Vanitas’ bad attitude and frequent swearing was out of the norm for his prestigious familial culture.

If their eating place, the only five-star restaurant the town had to offer, didn’t tell him that, then Xehanort’s smooth and calculated nature finished the job.

Even though Ventus' presence had lessened the awkwardness of the entire affair, for Vanitas, it’d been nearly painful, and his tongue ached from how much he’d bitten it. He’d done it only for Ventus’ sake, had he been on his own he wouldn’t have minded making a scene.

He didn’t like how Xehanort’s eyes trailed over Ventus’ every move. Didn’t liked the way his father accepted the blond so quickly, praising his son for finding such a polite, cheerful partner. He would have rathered the man had flat-out rejected Ventus; nothing good could come from him approving of the blond. And yet, despite seeming to approve of the blond, when Xehanort turned his attention to his ill-tempered son, the cross-examining was the same as it always was.

_What’re your plans for the future?_

_Do you think that's a good idea?_

_Is that all?_

And despite not wanting to, despite wanting to get mad, to feel pride in his life decisions, Xehanort's disapproval, for reasons unknown to Vanitas, still caused his heart to ache.

 _What did he care what the old man thought?_ Apparently, he cared more than he wanted to admit. 

He'd stilled under the questions, his thoughts a mixture between growled " _fuck off_ "s and quiet, uncertain " _Listen, I'm trying Dad_ "s, when Ventus, underneath the table, touched his thigh, a gentle squeeze. Vanitas looked to him then, found that Ventus wasn't looking to him, but to Xehanort. He spoke evenly and gently, the edge of the words lost to the pleasant tone of his voice. And as Vanitas listened, he resisted the urge to pull him close and kiss him hard.

Ventus had smiled, and said, very politely: “I think Vanitas’ goals are worthwhile.”

His heart still hadn’t stopped pounding.

“Why wouldn’t he like you Ven, he’s a world-renowned psychologist and you’re too-damn happy to be normal. He just wants to pick your brain.”

Ventus gave a quiet: "hm, I guess" and was silent as they walked along the perimeter of the room. Vanitas, from the corner of his eye, watched him, and even in the dim lighting of the restaurant, Vanitas could tell that Ventus’ mind was elsewhere. The nerves, the thrill of meeting the father of the one he’d become so fond of, had become replaced by something unnamed, something Vanitas couldn’t quite figure out.

He pulled Ventus out of the way of a waiter. "Are you ok?"

Ventus feigned a smile, and nodded.

“I’ve never had steak like that, I bet Terra would have loved it,” He gave a short laugh, the sound pitched with nerves, and idly he looked to his watch. “What was it called again?” they passed the bar and Vanitas, idly, considered buying the most expensive bottle of wine and charging it to his father’s account.

“Wagyu.”

“Wagyu, ok. I think Aqua said something about it once…” and again, there was a fogginess to Ventus’ gaze, a distance in the way he swung their interlocked hands. Though they were close, walking shoulder to shoulder, it felt as though he were drifting from Vanitas, his grip lessening.

“Ventus.”

“What?” the door was pushed open, and the scent of too-expensive food faded into the musk of the city. They stood on the sidewalk, finally removed from the grandiosity, and for a moment, though they held hands, it felt as though they were miles apart.

“Thank you for coming with me.” and he meant it, meant it more than he even expected from himself. He'd thought he'd been brought into Ventus' life to protect the blond's optimism, his naivety, his kindness. Where he was hard Ventus was soft, it only made sense that he'd be tasked with shielding the other from elements of harm. But here they were, both protecting each other at the end of it, shielding each other in ways Vanitas hadn't considered.

Ventus blinked and his eyes cleared. “I wasn’t expecting that from you,” and there came the smile, that warm, breezy grin. “I thought you were going to start yelling at me.”

Vanitas scoffed. “What exactly would I say?” and Ventus, as though he’d been waiting a lifetime, quickly pulled away. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, crossed his arms, and with narrowed eyes muttered, in a mimicked Vanitas cadence: _“Why would you put yourself in this situation, I could have handled it by myself. You’re an idiot and you’re too nice, stop putting yourself on the line for others—"_

Vanitas leaned forward, cupping Ventus' cheeks in hand with a growl. “Are you making fun of me?” He lifted Ventus’ chin, ever-so-gently upwards, and looked into those startled blue eyes.

The kiss felt like the first time, the same nerves, the same brain-rattling surge of energy. It was nothing more than a lingering peck, but still, when Vanitas leaned back, he and Ventus both were slightly pink-faced.

“That two hundred munni steak made you feel tough, didn’t it? You feel as though you can make fun of me now?” and under the grasp of his hand Ventus’ smile broadened.

Vanitas smiled back, and released Ventus from his hold. “Let’s go get some dessert. I know an ice cream place not too far from here.”

The dependable smile wavered, and Ventus was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed, the words in his head jumbled and inconsistent.

“I actually have something I have to do,” he shrugged, his gaze falling away from Vanitas. “I have to go before it gets too late, maybe we can get ice cream later?”

“Those errands you talked about this morning?” 

Ventus, slowly, nodded. “I have Father’s Day plans too. The place I need to get to closes at five and it’s a bit out of town so....”

And just as he’d been in the restaurant, a certain level of detachment entered his movements.

"Where are you going?"

“The Land of Departure."

"That's an hour away."

"That's why I have to go now, the bus leaves in about twenty minutes." And he turned, fingers slipping inch by inch out of Vanitas’ grasp. Vanitas tensed, holding him there even as he tried to pull away and Ventus stilled, looking over his shoulder to his imprisoned hand and its' captor.

“Vani let go,” He tried to pull away again, and the grip held tighter. “Are you worried you won’t be able to get into the apartment? Roxas should be home, just knock on the door.”

 _No_.

Vanitas looked to him, thought to what he did and didn’t know about Ventus. He’d never asked about Ventus’ family, had always looked to his group of friends as _the_ family. Terra and Aqua, Roxas and Xion, Lea and Isa. He’d never thought of a mother and a father, never thought to cousins and uncles. It had always been just…them in his mind. And Ventus, he’d never talked about anyone like that.

It was an area of vulnerability he’d yet to see in the blond, had yet to even consider. And in those moments, as Ventus continuously tried to pull away, to shield the weakness from Vanitas’ gaze, it felt as though if he didn’t engage it now, Ventus would never be open to showing him.

So he held fast onto Ventus’ hand, his grip tightening, expression serious.

“You invited yourself to my lunch, I get to invite myself to your _something_.” he never took his eyes off of Ventus’ blue gaze, held him there, trapped like a spider in a web, his intentions wrapped tightly in hand.

Ventus was silent, serious, more serious than Vanitas had ever seen him. Vanitas felt the tenseness in Ventus' body, felt his heightened pulse, and saw a glimpse of panic in the blue gaze. But still, he stayed holding his hand. The city moved around them, people exiting and entering the restaurant, cars passing by, but neither spoke nor moved, until finally, Ventus began to nod. His response came slowly, a thoughtful, narrowed expression forming as he spoke.

“I made a good choice, asking you to come for Thanksgiving, didn’t I?”

Vanitas overlaid their hands, intertwining them together fully once more with a smile.

“Nope.”

* * *

They arrived at the cemetery after an hour-long bus ride. Neither spoke throughout the trip, Ventus dozing on Vanitas’ shoulder for the first half and then, for the rest of the trip, tensely sitting in his seat, back straight, eyes watching the road before them, the bouquet he’d bought gripped tightly in his hands.

They walked through the cemetery in silence, Vanitas’ gaze never fully leaving Ventus’ face. With each step forward Ventus seemed to grow tenser. Stress lined its way throughout his face, and his breaths came quickly or, seemingly, not at all.

The grave they arrived at was already ordained with flowers, and Ventus stood a ways back as he, rigidly, spoke into the silence.

“Terra, Aqua, and I come here every year on Father’s Day," the bouquet trembled in hand. “I know I told them to go ahead without me, but it still feels weird that they did….” He fiddled with one of the small blue flowers, rolling the petals between his fingers.

 _Fuck Terra and Aqua._ That was Vanitas’ first inclination to say. _You’ve been feeling like they’ve been forgetting you since Thanksgiving, maybe you should talk to them, give them a piece of your mind._

But what really came out, as he watched Ventus approach the grave, his hands in his pockets, was a simple: “Oh.”

“He wasn’t my…my real dad or anything…but he was the closest thing I had to it. Roxas and I were raised by our Uncle Cloud but…he's pretty young, he felt like an older brother most of the time….” The words were coming harder now. Ventus struggled over each pause as though forcing himself to keep talking.

Vanitas had seen Ventus vulnerable before, there’d been Thanksgiving dinner…Christmas…Valentine’s Day, even St.Patrick’s Day. But this, this was different. There was something raw and old about the pain. It wasn’t uncertainty or insecurity, feelings born from new emotions and affections. This pain was near the core of who Ventus was, an anguish he didn’t seem to know how to deal with himself. Ventus neared the grave, his knees dropping to the grass as he placed the bouquet near Terra and Aqua’s. When he spoke, he seemed smaller than ever before.

“Eraqus wasn’t himself near the end. He was blaming me for a lot of things…. even tried to attack me once.”

Vanitas stayed silent, thinking over responses that all seemed inadequate. He hadn’t known the man, couldn’t say something like: “I’m sure he loved you.” There’d be a hollowness to the words, a truth that wasn’t his to tell.

Instead, he too sank to the ground, tentatively wrapped Ventus in a hug, felt the curve of Ventus’ back against his chest, and wished he could hold him even closer. Ventus pressed his face against Vanitas’ arm, and then, slowly, turned and buried his face into the curve of Vanitas’ neck.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

And after that, there was silence. If not for the damp warmth on his shoulder Vanitas wouldn’t have even known that his words had reached Ventus.

Would it be inappropriate to kiss him? A bit too Mary Shelley of a move perhaps.

There was a long moment of silence where Vanitas did nothing but focus on the sound of Ventus’ breathing. When it hitched, he’d hold his hand, and when it lessened, he’d wait. When Ventus, finally began to quietly relay stories of his adolescence, wooden sword fights and titles of prestige like “Master”, the day had passed into late afternoon. Ventus pulled away with an embarrassed smile, and still, Vanitas listened, his customary taunting long gone from his gaze, and little by little, Ventus’ words came stronger.

They sat for most of the remaining afternoon, talking, and sniffling, and learning. By the end of it, Vanitas felt as though he could address Eraqus, introducing himself and feeling as though maybe the man could hear it, and when Ventus' breathing calmed and the tears on his cheeks dried, they stood up together.

The hug came quickly and desperately, and Vanitas didn't falter as Ventus pressed himself into his chest. 

In the summer heat they held one another close, and therein came a gentle, sweet: “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the parents is stressful, amIright


	5. 4th of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the lake for the 4th of July leads to pranks and unexpected realizations.

Someone along the main road set off firecrackers and the sound echoed through the lakeside campground. From the shore, Ventus and Roxas jumped, and with a reflected glance, laughed together.

From the picnic bench, Vanitas watched with narrowing eyes. There was something different about Ventus…he couldn’t quite pin exactly _what_ he was picking up on, but as he watched the twin’s interaction the feeling compounded. For the rest of the day, which, as the sun had already begun to set, didn’t amount to long, Vanitas drank in each of Ventus’ movements, watched, with a constant gaze, each annoyed expression and thoughtful glance.

The blond was laughing as usual, was still annoyingly cute in the way he looked to Vanitas, wide-eyed and smiling. He still stared when Vanitas stood before him, beads of water trailing down his chest as he arose from the surf, and, as expected, turned away, red-cheeked and stuttering, when Vanitas advanced towards him, arms outstretched.

Every movement, every expression, it was all…Ven-like…but just off enough that Vanitas’ stare lingered longer than usual. He had his ideas but….no…that couldn’t be it.

It wasn’t like Ventus had been like this all day. It’d just been in the past few hours, after he and Roxas had gone for their woodland walk right after Vanitas’ last token of pranking. It’d been a harmless prank, he'd swum near Ventus, hidden by the darkness of the water, and then, with a yell, leapt to the surface.

Ventus scream was still, probably, echoing to the far reaches of the campsite.

The sunset was a deep purple as Ventus and Terra stood by the unlit fire. A long day of lake-fun activities had made the group: Terra, Aqua, the twins, and Vanitas tired-bodies tired and ready to sit back, food in hand, to watch the lakeside firework show. It was in that moment, as Ventus and Terra attempted to prepare the fire, that Vanitas finally figured out what was different with the blond.

It’d been a small thing. Terra had been joking about something and Ventus, smiling up at the man, had responded in an almost whispered tone.

With the whisper, the realization dawned on Vanitas.

His first reaction wasn’t anger. He hadn’t known the blond had it in him. Maybe he was even a little proud.

Terra whispered something back, and Ventus nodded vigorously, grabbing the rock they were using as flint and muttering something with an ever-growing smile. The smile faded quickly as the pair looked to the lack of sparks, the unlit wood, with abject failure warm in their faces.

“If only Lea were here, he’d get this fire going in no time." Vanitas leaned his head back against the log as he spoke, could feel the heat of someone's disapproving gaze. “If this were the Stone Age we’d all be dead."

In response, Terra gave a sarcastic _haha_ , and Vanitas, energized by the mock laughter, continued on with an ever-widening smile. “The history books would say: Terra, the group’s _manly_ provider, could not produce fire. The small family unit, unfortunately, starved to death shortly after.”

Terra looked to Vanitas, his gaze turning to a glare, the threat of violence warm in the lingering look, and quickly, Ventus spoke: “Rest in peace everyone.” 

Vanitas' laughter rang through the camp as the sun continued to sink. The lake water began to reflect the fires of the other campsites, and in preparation for the darkness, Aqua turned on a flashlight, sticking it into the sand as they all tried their hand at sparking the flames. It was a short-lived, and, with a sigh, they all accepted defeat. With stomachs that were beginning to growl, Vanitas, finally, offered a token of legitimate advice.

“There was that little convenience store just down the road, how about I just go get a lighter and some fluid?”

Terra continued to beat the sticks together, and Aqua, tearing her eyes away from the failed attempts, considered it.

“It’s not too far?”

“I’ve got my skateboard; I’ll get there in three minutes tops.”

The sticks continued to fray, unlit and growing colder by the minute. The fish they'd caught that morning, skewered and ready to be cooked, sat cold in the ice chest, and again, the pangs of hunger vibrated.

“Roxas you brought your skateboard, right? Why don’t you go with him?”

There was a glance between the twins at Aqua’s suggestion, Ventus’ gaze, sharp and narrowed, and Roxas’, wide-eyed and surprised. Vanitas knew, exactly, what the looks meant.

“Ventus can come with me,” Vanitas flashed a smile he was sure Ventus couldn’t see in the dark. “I can’t guarantee what'll happen once we’re alone, be prepared to eat raw fish in case we don’t return.”

By his side Ventus, as expected, gave an embarrassed chuckle, and Roxas scoffed. With a goodbye and another teased: “Don’t worry Terra, we’ll make it through this!” Vanitas made his way over the sand, his footsteps sinking with each movement. He retrieved his and Roxas’ skateboards from the car, wasn’t surprised when he turned and Ventus, quiet as ever, stood behind him with an apprehensive smile.

“What’re you all shy for? Or are you scared?”

Ventus’ scoffed, said, with a roll of his eyes: “Scared of what?” as he took the skateboard smoothly, not meeting Vanitas' gaze as he placed it before himself.

“Big Foot?”

“As if.”

They kicked off, gliding down the road, the warm glow of streetlights coming into view the farther they rode away from the lake. The sound of their skateboards rivaled against the popping of firecrackers throughout the campgrounds, and the smell of barbecue wafted, like aromatic fog, through the air. Soon the firework show would begin, and hopefully they’d have time to cook the fish, warm the smores, and douse the fire before it started.

They rode in comfortable silence, and though Vanitas knew there were others on the campgrounds, knew they weren’t alone, as they journeyed down the street it began to feel as though they were. Just the two of them, traveling spirits undefined by other’s rules and expectations.

_It was a nice thought._

“I’m surprised Rox let’s you ride that,” Vanitas’ words seemed to echo in the night. “I know you’re brothers and everything but that board is his baby. Once I accidentally kicked it and I swear I saw murder in his eyes.”

“What’re you kicking his board for?”

“What a good brother you are Venty,” Vanitas looked to Ventus, expecting a smile. Instead, he saw apprehension. Saw, in the rigid way he kicked for more speed, _uncertainty_. It could be because of Vanitas’ assumption about what was "wrong" with Ven…but then again…. what if he was wrong? The trees on either side of the word were dark, shrouding some hidden horror...

_Was Ventus scared?_

It wasn’t a chance he was willing to ignore. And if he was right in his assumption, it wouldn't be too big of a deal.

It'd actually factor into his own plans quite nicely.

“Here, give me your hand.”

“What?”

“I want to hold your hand.” Vanitas extended his hand between them, the catch of air flowing through his fingers, and for a moment he swayed on the board.

“W-where did that even come from, weren’t we talking about Roxas?”

“Well I can’t hold Roxas’ hand, can I?” The hand, still, outstretched between them like a life-line. “What? Do you think I’m going to pull you off your board?”

“No,” Ventus began to slow, and with a kick, he kept level with Vanitas. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Then come here.”

Reluctantly, Ventus reached for Vanitas, his balance wavering slightly. He gave an uncertain smile as they intertwined their fingers, and then, with a low chuckle, tightened his grasp on Vanitas’ hand. Vanitas nodded, looking back to the road with a sigh, breathing in the smell of pine and listening to the distant sounds of waves. The comfortable silence returned, each lost to their thoughts, palms pressed together, the moment of togetherness warm in the cold night.

* * *

Armed with lighter fluid and a box of matches, they exited the store.

There was something dreamy about the neon lights and a full moon. Something nostalgic in the anticipation of camp-fired food and muscles that were already heavy from day’s long fun and exhilaration.

Though the convenience store held all the grimes of one, an overflowing trash can to the left, a puddle of something akin to vomit to the right, as the two stood, purchases made and the promise of dinner of the horizon, everything seemed…calm, relaxed.

Perfect.

“They even had Sea Salt Ice Cream in there,” Ventus smiled, patting their brown-paperbagged purchases fondly. “Roxas is going to be so happy.”

Vanitas looked to him, stared and and smiled back in a way that made Ventus’ heart still. This, _this_ was an expression he’d rarely seen. Vanitas was tense most of the time, something about his expression always clenched, always waiting to fight, but in the glow of the convenience store, there was an expression Vanitas’ rarely seemed to have.

In the blue light of the Sea Salt Ice Cream sign, Vanitas looked gentle, seemed appeased as he looked to Ventus with a small, affectionate smile.

“I want to kiss you.”

Ventus blinked, his hand tightening around the paper bag.

“….in front of the trash can?”

“Yup.” And Vanitas leaned towards him, movements slow and capturing, one hand finding its way around Ventus’ wrist, the other, smoothly, going…

The blond felt a rush of warmth journey down his neck, felt the prickling sensation of embarrassment work its way up his jaw. He closed his eyes, his thoughts loud and pounding.

_Aqua had tried to spare him from this, had tried to arbitrarily switch the positions. She’d said this would be a bad idea, what good could come of pretending to be someone’s—_

_Someone’s....what?_

A tap, a gentle push of a finger against his forehead, sent the blond tripping over his feet.

_Had he…_

Vanitas wrapped his arm smoothly around the other’s waist, steadied him with a smirk. The blond blinked, frozen in body and expression, seemingly only able to stare, his gaze trapped somewhere between fear and embarrassment.

“You guys thought I wouldn’t notice? Twins always pull this dumb prank, switching places. What, was it to get back at me for scaring Ventus early? Idiots. The minute I saw you and Terra talking earlier I knew you weren’t Ven. Ven would never just chuckle about one of Terra’s jokes, he thinks that guy is _hilarious,"_ Vanitas pulled away once Roxas had steadied himself, and with a grin, stretched. "I almost thought maybe I was wrong when I asked to hold your hand earlier, Ventus hates the dark so if you were trying to act the way he does when he's scared, good job...but then you did your little “ _in front of the trash can?”_ thing....Pft, _in front of a trashcan,_ he’d never say that.”

“So you weren't going to kiss me? That was a...test," Roxas' words came breathlessly, and he stepped back, red-cheeked. "If you knew I wasn’t Ventus, then why’d you asked _me_ to come?” Roxas’ normal bravado, something that Vanitas knew as well as his own, had deflated in the face of his unmasking. He was fully, and completely, at the mercy of his own embarrassment.

"Payback because you thought I'd even for a second be unable to tell you and your brother apart. How dumb do you think I am?” Roxas didn’t respond, and Vanitas laughed, the sound echoing through the empty parking lot. “Ventus is so bad at pranks, how long were you guys going to keep this up?”

Roxas shook his head, his thoughts far-away from the conversation. His own embarrassment, for a second, taking a backseat to what the prank had made him realize about his brother and Vanitas' relationship.

“I had to get back at you too Roxas, sorry but not really, I can’t believe you decided to play along with such a dumb prank,” Vanitas pushed into the blond’s shoulder with a smile. “I’m going to get Ventus back for even _thinking_ about such a dumb prank. I’m going to tell him that I saw a weird silhouette in the woods while skateboarding, he’s going to get scared, and then, tonight, I’m going to….”

The thoughts repeated loudly in Roxas' mind as Vanitas continued to ramble about the prank.

 _Someone’s what? Who exactly is Vanitas?_ _Is he someone’s....Ventus'...boyfriend?_

Roxas blinked. Boyfriend, that’s the word he was looking for. _Yes, he's my brother's boyfriend._

"C-can I help? With the prank?” He had to act natural, had to appear completely normal. 

_I have to talk to Ventus._

Vanitas’ smile broadened, and he stepped onto his skateboard. “Even _better_. You can act like you’re some monster outside of the tent and you can drag me outside like I’m getting attacked,” Vanitas’ eyes shined in the moonlight, gave the appearance of a villain, and Roxas gave a low chuckle.

“Yea…”

Vanitas’ board clattered to the ground, and he kicked off, excitement coursing through his movements. “Come on then, we’ve been gone _just_ long enough.”

Roxas nodded, and though he wanted to smile back, he didn’t…he couldn’t.

With trembling hands, Roxas went to his phone, replied to Ventus and Xion: _Van knew about the prank the whole time and was just messing with us_. He sighed, set his board to the ground, and started after Vanitas with one last glance at the glowing Sea Salt Ice Cream sign. Taking deep breaths of the cool night air, he gave with a weak, shaky smile.

* * *

The light of the fireworks silhouetted Terra and Aqua’s forms as they stood together a ways-away from the younger group. Ventus sipped at his soda, looking to the sky, and each time one of the fireworks exploded his grasp on Vanitas’ hand tightened.

Vanitas leaned close to him, lips pressed to his ear as he whispered something smooth and sweet, and though Ventus couldn’t fully hear over the sound of the fireworks, he smiled.

Roxas watched the pair with narrowed eyes, feelings he hadn’t felt since Thanksgiving creeping back each time the glow of a rainbow explosion illuminated their cuddled forms.

He liked Vanitas, he did.

But he’d always put his brother first.

"Don’t you think it’s weird he hasn’t asked you out formally? Don’t you think it’s weird he hasn’t called you his boyfriend even once?" Roxas whispered the words to himself, the sound of them disappearing against the cracklings of the light-show.

The thought, like the fireworks above, kept exploding in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roxas "How can I mess this relationship up" Strife strikes again.
> 
> A serious (and slightly political and dare-I-say personal) note: This holiday means a lot of things to a lot of different people. For some it’s a celebration, for other’s it’s not. The 4th is a loaded holiday, and while I don’t bring up any of the historical implications of the holiday within this chapter, do know that I am aware of how this day can make people feel.  
> Not to get too personal, but I understand, and I see you. I’ve had my own complicated relationship with the 4th and what it not only means within my country (hi hello I am American, I don’t know if I ever stated that, maybe someone thinks I’m a Canadian idk lol) but also, what it means to my family. 
> 
> Within this chapter I tried to encapsulate all the positive memories I’ve had of the 4th: fireworks, bbq, summer trips, stereotypical but fond, childhood memories. When I write this fic I’m doing it for good fun. VanVen fluff and relationship studies are my favorite pastime, but I know that with some holidays there’s an elephant in the room, and I wanted to address it. 
> 
> I hope everyone has a good day, and I hope my rambling didn’t bore you to death if you read it lol.


	6. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood

Nightmares always seemed to cluster around this time of year. Always the same dreams, the same anxiety.

 _Pain. Deep enough to hurt, sharp and solid in his lower chest. And noise, whisperings from the darkness, hopelessness and watching eyes, something threatening in the background, emptiness, numbness_ —Cheerful music danced through the bedroom, and the dream dulled. _Eyes beading out from the darkness, yellow and wide._ _Then red, narrowed, prepared to attack._ Again, the music came, a bouncy, hip tune that _he_ hadn’t programmed as a ringtone but he was sure Ventus had. Squinting through the sunlight that, just perfectly, beaded into his eyes, Vanitas shrugged the last of the dream off, and with drowsy, searching hands, reached for his gummiphone.

Hip-Hop de Chocobo trumpeted on as the phone vibrated against the side table, the residual apprehension from the dream falling away with each repetition. Vanitas closed his eyes, let the song play once more before he pressed the phone to his ear.

“What?”

“Just wake up?” 

“I…” With the ringtone quieted, Vanitas could hear the sounds of the apartment. From the kitchen were movements of breakfast, not too quiet whispers, and the clatter of something against the counter. And then, barely restrained laughter, probably from some dumb joke. Vanitas focused on the murmurs and rolled his eyes. _Idiots._ At this rate they were going to break something. "Shut up."

"Xion got invited to some party at the Old Mansion tonight, so after your shift you should come. None of us are dressing up but if you feel up to it...." Vanitas pressed deeper into his pillow, focusing on the voice, the only voice, that could both calm and shake his heart. _Should he tell him now?_ In the kitchen someone dropped a glass, and the laughter, abruptly, stopped.

“Are you listening Vani?”

He couldn’t tell him though, not yet. Since the school year had started he hadn't been able to see Ventus nearly as much as he'd like. Hadn't been able to talk to him, hold him...

Tonight had to be perfect, and not telling him...that'd add to the surprise of it all. It was Halloween, what would the day be without a few tricks?

“Yea, yea, the party, and before that I’ll see you tonight at the haunted house, right blondie?”

There was silence, and Vanitas could imagine Ventus fidgeting, trying to think up a way to get out of the event. In a way, Vanitas wanted Ven to lie, wanted to hear him stutter over some badly-crafted fib.

“Sure, ok.”

But his apprehension was cute too, added to the thrill of finally being able to see him again after so many weeks of phone conversations. Seeing him tonight was definitely a well-needed treat.

* * *

They’d finally outrun the masked chainsaw assailant when they came to the long hallway, the doors ajar, dark, and flickering with strobed light. Ventus pressed against his brother, one hand clutching the inside of Roxas’ arm while the other, shaking, held the flashlight. Roxas, steadily, marched them forward, probably should have been the one to hold the flashlight, would have carried it with a steady hand and near apathetic expression, but he'd allowed Ventus the honor. Something about holding the light, even though it shook so violently that they could barely see anything, brought comfort to Ventus. With the light came safety, and with his arm around Roxas, he knew he could make it through.

And that was, perhaps, was why they were separated.

Hands grasped Roxas’ shoulders first and pushed him into one of the open rooms. His yells came muffled as the door shut behind him. And Ventus, staring wide-eyed, barely had time to scream as he was pulled into a room of his own.

The fake blood was sticky underfoot, and the mannequin on the bed, splashed with dark red paint while its arms lay limply to the side, looked a little too realistic for his liking. The sight, normally, would have been enough to send the blond to the floor in horror, but in that moment, all he could do was smile.

“Ventus!?” the call was muffled, and for the first time since they’d entered the haunted house Roxas’ voice held a tremor of fear. But, dually, Ventus’ heart had finally begun to calm, and as he stood, back pressed against the door he’d just been pulled through, the door locked with an expertly placed hand, his once paled face blossomed with color.

Gently, he stroked a hand over bloodied skin, felt the raggedness of an expertly applied torn-open cheek.

“So gorey. Why couldn’t you be something else, something more…PG?”

This was the first time he’d seen his other in quite some time, and even through the zombie FX makeup, Vanitas' smirk still made Ventus' heart flutter. This newfound hunger after being unable to see his other was more demanding than Ventus had expected, it guided his hand into Vanitas’ as though the punk were a lifeline, and started a small fire, embers of yearning sparking brighter and hotter as they leaned, almost instinctively, towards one another.

There came frenzied footsteps as Roxas ran past the door, and both Vanitas and Ventus stilled as another, now more panicked call of “Ventus, where are you!?” rang through the section. They only resumed speaking once the footsteps quietened.

“PG?” there came a sharp-toothed grin. “This is why your better half here is in charge of things Venty-Wenty, if I told my boss I wanted to dress up as something child-friendly he probably wouldn’t have hired me.”

And then a well-placed thumb, gently cradled against his jaw, brought Ventus' face closer. "You were scared weren't you. You were shaking and everything." Ventus scoffed, the embarrassment coming in waves, warm and down his neck, and Vanitas' smirk grew.

“Shut up. What are you even supposed to be, some vampire zombie―” and a kiss, tender and wanting, silenced the retort. He could feel Vanitas’ fingers, gingerly, graze over the back of his neck, could feel the strong tempo of his heartbeat beneath the wrist in his hand.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss the customers.”

“Right, right,” it was purred, sarcastic. “Sorry.” A single finger traced along his neck, trailed from his collarbone upwards slowly. The room, suddenly, felt painfully hot.

“This wayfinder tattoo,” the whisper brought a shiver up Ventus’ spine, was breathless and tender. “I’ve always wanted to ask you about it.”

It was getting harder to resist, getting harder to keep up the act of apathy. “Terra and Aqua, we all got tattoos together…” And then, another slow trail of the finger up his neck, and a fog, euphoric and warm, began to settle in.

“So a haunted house with paid actors is scary but,” softer kisses, slow and tempered, followed the path Vanitas had drawn up his neck. “Needles are ok?”

And this time, Ventus kissed him, harder, more desperate, than either had expected. They'd been apart for too long, so much so that something like withdrawal had set in. And that first kiss had sparked a greater need than Ventus could bear.

"I thought you said no kissing..."

"Shut up."

“Ventus!?”

There was desperation in Roxas’ voice, so pure and frantic that it jolted through the fog that’d begun to set in. Ventus pushed Vanitas off slightly, much to the disdain of the other. “He’s scared.”

“It’s a haunted house, he's supposed to be scared,” Vanitas leaned away, grabbing something just out of view. “But if you're worried fine. Here, I'll even get a memento for you guys.”

“Memento?”

And the door gave way, opened by the same hand that’d locked it. Ventus fell backward, fell into another body, and before he could yell out, Roxas shouted in turn, the sound echoing down the hallway. They fell to the ground, a pile of confusion and fear, and as the twins looked up from the floor, eyes wide, Vanitas, smirking, leaned down to look at his masterpiece.

And with a fanged smile, there came the flash of a camera.

“Boo.”

* * *

They'd left, Roxas red-faced, Ventus looking pleased. There'd been much teasing from Vanitas, offers to send Roxas wallet-sized copies of the photograph loudly laughed, but Roxas had responded with less enthusiasm than even Ventus had expected. There were no jokes, no smiled retorts, only a smooth: "No thanks," as he made his way to his skateboard to leave.

"What's his problem?" Vanitas watched him go, expression perplexed, and Ventus had shrugged, kissing him before he too followed his brother.

Ventus thought over the interaction as he stood alone by the front entrance of the Old Mansion. Bodies moved by him, walking into the strobed darkness and booming music of the party as he waited, patiently, for his brother to find Xion inside. Something had changed between Roxas and Vanitas, and though Ventus knew what it was, he didn't have the heart to tell Vanitas. But he'd have to tell Vanitas eventually about why Roxas was acting the way he was. Had to tell him, especially now that the holidays were around the corner, because if not Thanksgiving was going to be very—

And that’s when he saw him, walking up to the jack-o-lantern lined entrance, and suddenly, Roxas' distrust seemed less important. _What kind of a costume_...

Vanitas was dressed plainly, a hoodie and jeans, the zombie-vampire makeup washed away. All that had changed was that he’d dyed his hair and...put in contacts? Long gone were the black tresses and where there'd once been golden eyes now came light blue. Ventus stepped towards him, took the other’s hand with a smile. _What was the point of even dressing up?!_

“What’re you supposed to be,” he laughed. “Some PG version of yourself?”

But the voice that responded, and the confused smile that came, wasn't the familiar smirk and graveled tone Ventus had come to look forward to.

"I think I'm a bit more than PG," he cocked his head, and Ventus began to pull his hand back. "I'm at least PG-13, or rated T."

"On a good day, maybe," And the person by his side, someone Ventus hadn't even though to look to, responded, his eyes going to Ventus' hand.

Ventus looked back to Vanitas’ face, his smile, gradually falling, and everything seemed to go silent. The music seemed muted, the sounds of too-loud conversation dull.

_What was going on…._

This had to be Vanitas, but, in all the ways it mattered, this person wasn’t. There was a striking resemblance, uncanny familiarity in the lines of his jaw and the shape of his face, even down to the spikes of hair. But…the differences were still there, not as pronounced but still...glaringly obvious. There was a lightness to this person's movements, a natural kindness in the way he smiled, almost apologetically, first to the hand linked in his, and then to Ventus.

“I knew I should have dressed up,” and even when he narrowed his eyes there wasn’t anger there, only a mild sort of confusion. “I never should have lent him my Pluto costume.”

“I,” Ventus took his hand back fully and rubbed the back of his head. “I thought you were someone else. Sorry.” He stepped back. _Vanitas would think this was the funniest thing..._

“Let me guess, you know Vanitas?” The silver-haired man who stood, stoic despite his Mickey Mouse ears headband, by the brunette’s side, spoke again, and Ventus nodded, slowly. The spiky-haired doppelganger began to laugh, and the explanation came quickly.

He was Vanitas’ cousin, though he, with a shrug, admitted they were always mistaken as brothers. They were in town for the weekend for a Professional Struggle competition and were staying at Vanitas' place. Riku, Sora’s companion, was apparently a pretty big deal in the sport, held a high-ranking title, and even had sponsors from the company behind Sea Salt Ice Cream. Ventus nodded along to the story, adding in that his own brother had once had a stint, prior to college, in professional Struggle.

Riku nodded. “I actually thought you were Roxas before you started talking. He and I went to the same Struggle Camp and —”

“—and during the Semi-Finals, this guy pulled out an illegal move,” Roxas’ intrusion came growled, and he approached them, one hand around Xion's, the other pointing, accusingly, at Riku. “I had no way of recovering, it wasn’t fair.”

“You had _two_ Struggle bats. I don’t think you should be talking about fair.”

They began to bicker, the words drowned by the sounds of the party. In vain, Xion went between them, trying to calm down a years-old feud, as Ventus and Sora watched on, smiling at the sudden growth of their small inner circle.

* * *

It was crowded and hot. Too many bodies crammed into an old house that seemed about to crumble around them. Sora was fun, easy to talk to, and even easier to party with. He had an easiness about him, an ability to go from situation to situation as gently as a leaf caught in a river current, and it wasn’t long before he’d situated himself, comfortably, within their little group, Riku a constant, following companion.

But while they danced, and drink, and laughed, Ventus’ eyes, frequently, chanced towards the doors of the Old Mansion as he waited for his other to arrive.

When, finally, Ventus grew tired of waiting and retreated to the outer edges of the party, Sora followed. They pushed through the crowd together, leaving Riku to dance with Xion while Roxas glared on.

“So how long have you and Vani been friends?”

Ventus paused, the message he'd typed to Vanitas half done. _How to respond to this..._ Sora, by his side, sipped on his drink patiently.

_They were dating...but Vanitas....hadn't talked about him to his cousin._

Ventus looked down to his phone, down to the message of _where are_ and bit his lip.

_But he had met his father so..._

He feigned a smile, and shouting over the music, told the story about Thanksgiving but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t so much as flinch when Sora, with a laugh, said: “I’m surprised he went along with that, watch out, maybe he likes you.”

And Roxas' voice, in mind, grumbled: _Don’t you think it’s weird he hasn’t called you his boyfriend even once. How much can he actually like you if he isn't willing to commit to that?_

"Actually Sora, Vanitas and I—"

There came a crash, and both of them jumped. There came the clattering of glass and plates, screams about a fight ascending over the booming music. Someone pushed past him, and Ventus felt Sora's hand, protectively, clasp against his shoulder. 

“There's always a fight at parties like this...always some hothead," Ventus looked to where partygoers had already begun to surge. Through the crowd, he could see flashes of yellow and long silvered hair.

It was some guy Roxas knew...Ventus couldn't remember his name...and he was fighting....some guy dressed as Pluto. It would have been funny, and he'd even begun to smile, but when Ventus looked back to Sora his expression fell. The brunette looked uncharacteristically tense. With eyes narrowed and tips tightly bound, he stared ahead, his gaze trailing through the crowd.

Sora started forward, his hand leaving Ventus' shoulder abandoned, and before Ventus would question him, he called back.

"That's our hothead!"

And even though Ventus couldn’t see who was in the suit, only saw the dented in head of Pluto the dog in brief glimpses, he suddenly knew what expression was laying underneath there, shrouded in the darkness. A flash of exhilaration in bright, golden eyes, an almost gleeful grin as he was thrown to the ground and delivered a crushing blow to the drink-spiller.

_Vanitas._

They pushed through the crowd, the music seeming louder now, drowning out the jeers and laughter. As more of the fight came into view, the disarray of the suit became more apparent. There was blood now, stained on the arms and hands, smudged over the chest....but all Ventus could see was the fist that never seemed to stop punching. Sora and him stood at the forefront of the crowd, wide-eyed, as the fight grew in fervor, the punches coming more violently, the kicks more brutal.

"Vani, stop!" there was something like pain in Sora's voice, any anger that should have been replaced with worry, but if Vanitas heard it, he didn't respond.

_Vanitas was enjoying this, enjoying fighting, enjoying the pain._

_The fist, completely reddened, continued to punch._

Unlike Sora, Ventus didn’t yell out, didn’t try to reach Vanitas with words. He only launched forward and grabbed the wrist of the mascot suit, felt the blood, wet and warm, against his hand. The head turned to him, large cartoon eyes staring back at him.

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His silence had no impact on the party, no impact on the watching crowd or on those who still danced, blissfully unaware of the fight. But it broke the trance of the bloodied mascot, and in the half-a-second short glance, there was something communicated that threatened to break either of them. They were running, hand-in-hand, from the crowd, from the bloodied man on the ground who yelled for Pluto to come back and finish what he’d started, before either fully processed it. The music still thrummed, and the party continued even louder than before, and though Ventus didn’t know where they were running he never let go of Vanitas’ wrist.

* * *

“Is your head ok?”

“Yea, yea,” Vanitas sat on the toilet, hair plastered to his face, black strands wet with sweat as they looked to the tub where the Pluto suit soaked, sad and bloody. Ventus squatted by its side, fingers gliding through the water, swirling soap suds with each movement.

The doorbell rang, more trick or treaters, but neither of the two moved to answer. It wasn’t like Vanitas or Seifer had bought any candy for them anyway.

Ventus looked to Vanitas, to the icepack he pressed against his stomach and to the already purpling bruises dotted, like constellation galaxies, over his bare chest. _This wasn't how he'd thought this night would turn out._

“Why did you….why did you get into that fight?” Ventus’ whisper was drowned out by the ding-donging of the doorbell, but to Vanitas he might as well have been shouted. _This wasn't how he'd wanted this night to turn out._

“He said the costume was stupid.”

“…that’s it?”

“It’s a good enough reason.”

Ventus looked at the blood spreading into the water, seeping from the yellow of Pluto’s fur. He wasn't mad...how could he be? Vanitas hadn’t acted out of character...but it had been surprising.

“Is it?”

Vanitas had always erred towards violence, had always gone straight into fighting and cursing. Ventus had seen it himself, back in November when he’d been the teacher’s assistant for Vanitas’ art class. That’s who he was dealing with. The punk in class who drew angry art and had outbursts of violence. Ventus waited for the response, his chin tucked into his knees, his eyes going to the reddening suds.

“I was walking towards you and he spilled something on the suit. I told him to watch where he was going and he told me to fuck off and it just…fucking escalated from there…”

Ventus had forgotten that Vanitas’ default had always seemed to be anger, to be ferocity. He stroked the wet fur, working the blood out with his thumb, and didn't know how to answer. How could he answer?

“I’m….sorry Ven,” There was worry in Vanitas’ voice, and with each unanswered pause, it grew. “I didn’t plan on the night being like this…I didn’t plan on being angry, I was going to just walk away but then he pushed me and....I really wanted this night to be good. I wanted to surprise you with my cousin and that stupid outfit. We barely get to see each other and...”

And finally, Ventus looked to him, and the uncertainty, like ice, melted away.

Vanitas was trembling, his hands tucked underneath his thighs, eyes to the ground. The anger Ventus had expected was gone, had apparently evaporated long ago, and in its place was something else, something wounded, and pained, and old.

"I really wanted tonight to be perfect, but nothing ever goes the way it's supposed to."

The doorbell rang again as Ventus rose to his feet. Vanitas followed the movement, his eyes closing as Ventus held his face in his hands and kissed his forehead. Vanitas gazed up at him, his expression surprisingly calm, almost innocent.

"When you looked at me at the party, you looked...scared," There was something hurting in Vanitas, something he'd carried for a long time, maybe his whole life, and when he spoke, it was as though a fraction of it began to breakthrough. "Were you?" 

Ventus blinked down at him, and Vanitas looked back. They stayed like that for a long moment, eyes pooling into one another's, both searching for something they wouldn't be able to find.

"Not of you," it was the only way Ventus could respond, the only thing he could say without feeling as though he were lying. Vanitas, slowly, began to nod, and then with a tired sigh, he leaned his head into Ventus' stomach. A hand, affectionately, stroked through sweat-dampened hair, and the doorbell, once again, rang.

Ventus knew, and maybe now, Vanitas did too, that he hadn't been scared of the violence or the blood. But what Vanitas didn't know was that the core of it all, the core of the fear, had been sowed within Ventus a long time prior to the fight. A fear rooted in doubt, a doubt that'd started long before Roxas had come to him and asked about the status of his and Vanitas' relationship, and only grew as his brother continued to question.

It was fear that maybe…the reason Vanitas hadn't made it official was that he'd known, and had long decided, that they weren't right for one another. That there'd come a day when Vanitas, quietly, left, because he'd come to accept, on his own account, that his pain, and wounds, and anger, were too much for Ventus to handle. Vanitas wasn't one to accept someone else picking up his broken pieces and if Vanitas truly believed nothing ever went the way it was supposed to....why would he have any faith that they would?

Ventus continued to stroke Vanitas’ head as the doorbell rang on, unable to shake the thought that the fight had already set something detrimental into motion. And Ventus, as he looked to the pink-hued water, was suddenly terrified. 

* * *

Vanitas, through heavy eyes, stared at his phone, the messages from Sora both comforting and unsettling. There'd been many panicked texts before the newest one, many apologizes and unwanted advice. By his side Ventus slept, curled in over a pillow, back pressed against Vanitas’, and Vanitas, with a watching eye, turned the brightness on his screen down.

_Well we're still Xion’s, scary movie marathon! Really glad that we got to meet your friends tonight._

Had Roxas said anything to Sora? He'd wanted Sora...and Riku by default...to meet and hang out with Ventus, but now they were getting all buddy-buddy with the others. _Typical_.

_Ventus is a really good friend to have pulled you away when he did, remember to thank him, alright? And don't worry, we'll be in town for a few more days, just focus on getting my suit clean._

_…A good friend…_

Almost a year now, almost a full year since he’d run into Ventus and had to confront the small crush he’d been hellbent on ignoring.

 _He’s not my friend._ The message came automatically before Vanitas even thought about it. He looked to Ventus, asleep and curled by his side, and paused. _He’s my_

Vanitas pressed the gummiphone to his forehead, Ventus’ words coming back to him in waves. _Not of you_. What did that mean?

_He’s my…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the chapter where Vanitas realizes he probably needs therapy for his anger issues.


	7. New Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I actually had a whole Christmas/New Years chapter finished and ready to go yesterday. Was about to post it and decided I absolutely hated it.
> 
> Lol, RIP to that chapter.

**11:21 AM**

_You are the key to your own destiny after all_ _, you have to confront your past if you want to fully be in the present. Whichever way you feel is the safest is fine, even if that means burning every picture you have of him…now that is an excellent way to do it…_.

This year there’d been a text. A possibility of change.

_We’re getting together tonight. Come if available._

By his side, Ventus sketched, fingers smudged black with charcoal, and Vanitas looked to him for a moment, considering his options.

His family never got together for the holidays, had always viewed it as a waste of time. But then again, this year had taught him a lot of things, had shown him that life was more than what he’d thought it could be.

Maybe his family had had the same sort of epiphany?

 _What better way to bring in the New Year than to say goodbye to the Old._ He looked to Ventus again, and then responded to the text with a smile. _And hello to the New._

* * *

**11:15 PM**

It was New Year’s Eve and Vanitas stood on his childhood bedroom’s balcony, eyelashes flecked with snowflakes and hands sticking to the railing. He breathed clouds into the darkness, leaned against the metal hard enough for it to hurt, and thought of all the times he’d spent standing at this very spot, staring into a city that’d never really known him, and wanting nothing more than to escape somewhere where he’d be...

He didn’t know.

  
“Everything is always transactional,” the venom painted the words an inky black, and the breeze, dependably, carried them into the night.

This was supposed to be the year he figured it all out….and yet….here he was again. Doing the same thing, pushing his key into a door that’d been intentionally locked.

“Vanitas.”

And of course he’d be here too…Had it really been a year since they’d been just like this, outside of a house in the winter cold? It hurt, seeing Ventus and realizing how badly he’d screwed up. Being angry in front of a person was one thing…but being hurt? That was a whole other level of intimacy. It felt uncomfortable and raw, too naked for Vanitas’ liking. He turned away, and like a bat frightened by the sun, huddled into himself.

Still, Ventus stepped towards him, footsteps crunching over the snow, a slight apprehension in each step, the decision to go forward always not far behind. It was a painful reminder that destiny was coming for him, the end of an era he’d always been too scared to start.

 _Are you an_ _idiot_?

A hand, cold and bare against his own, slid over the railing, and there came a whispered: “I’m taking you home, ok?”

Something within Vanitas trembled.

He owed Ventus better than this, better than _him_.

Maybe he really did deserve to spend his holidays alone.

* * *

**Earlier - 7:08 PM**

_Find gratitude in the little things Vanitas, you will soon realize there is more to be grateful for than you realize._

Gratitude _. What was he grateful for?_

Maybe the fact that he could stare into those eyes for a lifetime, could memorize every eyelash, every place where the blue flecked into a darker shade, a deeper meaning. In the chill of Winter night, the duo walked the neighborhood streets, their shoes crunching against the freshly fallen snow, each step feeling as though something monumental was left in their wake. They were silent, spare for Ventus’ quiet _oohs_ as he pointed out the Christmas displays. Vanitas, gripping his other’s hand and pulling his newly gifted scarf farther up his face, enjoyed each one.

_I’m grateful for this._

“Does this make you want to write a poem?” Ventus pointed at a particularly extravagant display, curling ribbons and sparkling lights. “Because the first thing I’m going to do when we get back to Terra and Aqua’s is sketching something.”

Vanitas nodded and could do little more than give a quiet: _mhm_ as they looked on.

Ventus went to walk but was pulled back into Vanitas’ arms. There was a smirk at the responding startled yelp and then the dependable, warm smile. And despite the lack of mistletoe, cold noses brushed against one another, and there came a soft kiss.

_I’m grateful for him._

Vanitas pulled away, and Ventus blinked, gave a confused smile and asked what was wrong.

_So please, let him forgive me._

* * *

**8:45 PM**

The tv was turned down low as Lea lost yet another game of cards. Roxas, almost greedily, collected the munni, and Isa, with a sigh, muttered words of encouragement to his dejected spouse.

Xion and Terra were weeding through a box of sparklers and goofy party hats as Aqua scaled the stairs, heading for the guest room she’d known Ventus and Vanitas had disappeared into.

Was she worried about what she might be walking into? _Yes_. Was she more worried that Ventus hadn’t so much as talked to anyone ever since he and Vanitas’d gone outside for some air? Yes.

But what she found wasn’t an entangled couple or even a cuddling one. Instead, with her heart dropping, she found her younger brother sitting alone in a dark room, his gaze to the window, searching for something unseeable. By his side was a backpack, filled to the brim with only what she could guess was clothes and necessities.

“I’m going to Radiant Garden.”

_What? New Years was in two hours, and it’d take that long, if not longer, to get to Radiant Garden._

If Terra had heard Ventus, he would have launched into dozens of questions, a panic settling over his words. But Aqua was different, calmer in her nervousness. Ventus grabbed a pair of shoes in her silence, and Aqua watched him move with narrowing eyes, an unsettling realization coming to mind. As she watched this young man she’d helped raise, for a moment, it was as though he was a stranger painted by life experiences she knew nothing about.

He was someone she didn’t fully know, and _that_ , that made her panic.

“Why?” Ventus tied his shoes, and Aqua moved towards him, her words coming quieter. “Were you going to tell anyone?”

And when he looked to her there was a spark of betrayal in his eyes. He blinked, blinked again, and fought against the tears that threatened to fall.

“Why would I, it’s not like you guys would even notice,” Ventus winced at his own words, at the childishness of it all. He sounded like a brat, like an inconsolable child…but it _was_ how he felt, how’d he felt for a long while now. And with the small realization, the tiny bit of relief, the last crack shivered through his floodgates, and Ventus exploded.

“Ever since you got married it’s like neither of you even care about your friendship with me. You guys always do everything together now!” His fingers trembled against the show, and he gripped the laces.

“I used to be able to hang out with just Terra or with just you or we’d all hang out together and it’d all feel the same but now, now I don’t even get to see you guys individually, let alone as a trio,” he sniffled, and quickly wiped away a stray tear. “I get that you’re married and you have to prioritize that relationship, but _please_ , don’t forget about me in the process.”

There came a quiet, almost straggled gasp, and both Ventus and Aqua looked to the doorway. Unlike Aqua, who was trying her hardest to be amicable, or Ventus, who was stuck between two complex emotions and trying desperately not to teeter over, Terra didn’t so much as attempt to withhold what he was feeling.

When he rushed to Ventus, picked him up and hugged him close just as he’d done when Ventus was smaller, feet dangling off the ground, his _sorry_ s were almost drowned out by the sound of Ventus, finally, crying. Aqua came next, smoothening Ventus’ hair as she apologized, and they hugged together, each emotional in their own way.

“Vanitas’ family told him to come home and he left, but I have this feeling like…he needs me there.” Ventus sniffle as he looked to his siblings, eyes begging for the guidance he’d so missed.

He needed them, just as much as he needed Vanitas.

And they, in response, nodded.

* * *

**11:10 PM**

Getting to Radiant Garden before the New Year began had resulted in two speeding tickets, but they’d done it.

Ventus’ footsteps echoed off the cobblestone, and he dodged drunken passerbyers with almost expert care as he looked down at his gummiphone. The air was crisp with the tang of freshly fallen snow, and as Ventus typed: _where are you?,_ the call of a seagull overhead rang through the night.

“Ventus?”

He looked up from his phone, skidded to a halt as a familiar smile and blue eyes blinked back at him.

  
“Sora!” Was destiny on his side? “Did you just get back from Mr.Xehanort’s New Years Eve party? Could you tell me where it is?”

Sora paused, scanning Ventus. The blond was shivering, hands ungloved, barely a jacket thrown on, but it didn’t seem as though he was cold. It, as Sora took a step back, looked as if he was shaking with adrenaline. Maybe he and Vanitas had plans? It had been pretty weird that Vani would want to spend New Years with Uncle of all people…but why was Ventus out here.

“I did just leave Uncle’s but that was to take care of Flood,” He looked to Ventus one more time before checking his watch. “Riku and Kairi are waiting for me but I can take you there if you want.”

“No, it’s ok, just, point me in the direction of the house.”

Sora blinked, and then gave a laugh, shaking his head, and then he pointed somewhere Ventus hadn’t been expecting.

* * *

**11:32 PM**

This time hadn’t been different, and the only reason Vanitas stepped back into the house was because, with an irritated glance, he realized Ventus hadn’t worn anything warm for his “rescue mission.”

“I bought you those gloves so you’d actually wear them you know,” He closed the door and shrugged off his own jacket. The leather was cold, and wet with snow, but as he tossed it to Ventus, the blond took it eagerly. “How’d you know I was here anyway?”

“I ran into Sora and he gave me his spare key—”

“No, _here_ ,” Vanitas gestured to the file cabinets and bookshelves. “Most people get lost their first time through the estate, plus it’s not like this looks like a bedroom, seems like _Daddy Dearest_ was more than happy to turn it into a record’s room.”

Ventus paused in his shrugging on the jacket and turned to the doorway, motioning with his head to the creature that’d manufactured his path through the castle. A black mass broken up only by two large red eyes, gazing, unblinking, for the hallway. Ventus’ ankles, even now, throbbed from the amount of times the creature had nipped at him, corraling him through the many dark hallways like a sheepdog to its flock. Ventus kept his comments on the size of the estate to himself, didn’t comment on the portraits he’d seen of brothers Vanitas never mentioned, but with an exasperate mutter, he motioned against to the beast.

“That little thing attacked me until I got to this room.”

Vanitas smirked.

“That’s my emotional support darkness,” his smile, for a moment, held something akin to affection. “That little demon is the only reason I survived living in this hellhole, evilest cat I’ve ever met though.”

“That’s a….cat?”

Vanitas chuckled, and sat in the chair with a sigh. “He is pretty ugly, isn’t he?”

Ventus didn’t want to ask why he hadn’t invited him to come to brave the storm together. And Vanitas, rubbing his thumb into his palm with narrowed eyes, didn’t seem as though he’d volunteer the information. What he did volunteer, in a half-snarled mutter, hurt Ventus all the same.

“They just did their little show for Dad, he paid them, and then they fucked off.”

“Paid?”

Vanitas looked up from his palm, only for a second, and then, curtly stated what had occurred. In his family, as he assumed it was in others, a yearly allowance was given depending on achievements. Vanitas, haphazardly, laughed about it, treated it as though it were a weird family tradition, but as he talked about the deductions he’d received years prior, one for choosing the wrong college and the other, for failing to achieve an appropriate GPA, his expression darkened. He finished with the statement: “Usually he just wires the money or sends an email or something but I dunno, he was possessed by the holiday spirit apparently and wanted to hand us actual checks this year.”

Ventus didn’t know how to respond. It sounded more like a business transaction than a New Year’s Eve gathering. More like formality than familial love. He could only, as he watched Vanitas beckon to the cat, say: “Oh.”

The cat arched into Vanitas’ outstretched hand, but his expression didn’t soften. Instead, his eyes narrowed.

“None of them even…talked to each other. I don’t think Ansem even looked at me….,” he stroked the cat before looking at Ventus. “Do you know what he paid me for this year?”

Ventus, wordlessly, shook his head, and Vanitas looked back to the cat.

“He gave me a check because of you. Wrote in the memo: “for your notable choice of partnership”, said it was my best achievement in years…does that make you feel like we should break up? That my father sees you as a prize or something?”

“Can I see it?” _Please just give it to me._

“Why would you want to see something like that?” _Why, can he really buy your respect just like that?_

“Let me.”

The check was pulled from Vanitas’ pocket, tossed in the space between them. Ventus caught it, looked at its crumpled exterior.

“Why’d you keep it?”

“Maybe….because it proves how weak I am. I wanted to rip it up in his face, I wanted to do a lot of things when he handed it to be…but I didn’t do any of them,” there was defeat there, cold and humiliated, as Vanitas leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. “It’s proof that maybe I can’t move on from the past.”

And just like that, Ventus realized he held Vanitas’ worth in his hands in the form of a balled-up check. Held the closest thing Vanitas’ family could give to love. This wasn’t just what Xehanort thought of Vanitas, it was what he thought of Ventus too. A representation of everything that caused Vanitas pain, and he was holding it. Just a piece of paper, and so much more.

If he wanted, he could open it up and see exactly who he and Vanitas were to Xehanort. How much Vanitas thought he was worth, and how much Vanitas felt he meant to his father. Ventus looked to Vanitas and knew that this would be the last thing he’d say before everything changed. When Ventus spoke, it came whispered, because anything else would have shattered the moment, breaking the delicate emotions into future shards of hurt.

“Do you want me to help you?”

Vanitas gave a gravelly laugh. “I don’t want your help.”

Ventus looked back to the paper ball and bit his lip, and again, tried.

“Do you _need_ me to help you?”

And Vanitas stilled.

He’d wanted things all his life. Wanted simple things, like good mornings and happy birthdays, Christmases with a family that actually liked each other. Wanted a family that spent both the happiest of times and the saddest. Wanting had always led to disappointment…

But need? When had anyone ever cared about his _needs_? Had all his problems stemmed from something as simple as that? And nobody…nobody had ever offered to help him. He’d always been the one to take the first step…

He could only nod as Ventus, with a smile, helped him put his past behind him.

The blonde started by ripping the check in half, and there was something satisfying about the destruction. He handed the other half to Vanitas, and with a smile, they ripped the slips into pieces, smaller and smaller bits littering the floor. The cat watched on, standing obediently by its master’s feet, somehow seeming to know that this moment wasn’t a time to play.

When they’d finished, Vanitas stared at the small pile with a wide grin, and in the adrenaline of it all, went to the balcony door.

He flung it open, both Ventus and the cat recoiling at the cold, and with one, grand swoop of the arm, threw the paper bits into the wind. They swirled, paper-snow dancing before his eyes, before they were whisked away, incorporating, seamlessly, with the white of the night.

He turned back to Ventus, and with a deep breath, closed the door. They looked to one another, and there was something unspoken between them. A realization, and a promise. A need that’d been translated in one small act, that they would be there to catch the other when they fell. An understanding that they were both shadows of one another, attached in a way maybe they wouldn’t ever be able to understand. Ventus stepped forward, closing the space between them, and he held Vanitas tight and waited until the other’s arms enveloped him before he whispered the promise.

"You’re my family Vanitas,” he burrowed his head into the other’s shoulder, relaxed as he felt the hand against the back of his head. “If you need anything, you come to me, ok?”

There came a snort, and a roll of the eyes, but hidden from view, there was a small smile and a softened expression.

“What kind of Disney bullshit line is that?”

And with a chuckle, Ventus looked to him, stared into the eyes of the one who'd saved him all those holidays ago, he laughed.

* * *

**11:50 PM**

On the streets of Radiant Garden, they walked back to the hotel as the sounds of parties and premature fireworks echoed through the town. Ventus knew, with a smile, that Aqua and Terra were anxiously waiting by their gummiphones, waiting for him to give them the confirmation that it’d all worked out.

They could wait.

“You know, you can joke about it, but therapy is helpful. I went to therapy after Eraqus died and it helped. I only stopped because I had other bills I needed to pay.”

_Maybe they shouldn’t have ripped the check. Maybe they should have cashed it and used it towards other things._

Vanitas pushed the thoughts away, and bit his lip. _Now was as good as a time as any._

“You know…I’ve been seeing a therapist since November…after Halloween I…I realized I really need to…well...During our last session he was talking about confronting the past and being able to move on from things that can’t be changed….,” Vanitas cleared his throat, and hoped the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks wasn’t too apparent. “I thought confronting my past would be easy but my past doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Ventus listened, and quietly considered his words before speaking.

“The past doesn’t have to be a person Vani. It’s about you getting a place where you can process what happened without breaking down…if you need help with that…we can work together.”

 _Thank you._ It was all Vanitas could think as he looked at him. _Thank you, and sorry._

He always, it seemed, had something to apologize for. It was at the top of his list for being better.

“Earlier when I said the breaking up thing….”

“I know you didn't mean it.” _For once in your life stop being so forgiving._

“Dr.Even, my therapist, says accountability is important. You shouldn't accept that just because I said something out of anger or because I was upset means that it's ok. I shouldn’t have said it,” _Take responsibility, and then make it right._ “I'm sorry I said it, I won't...I'm going to be more careful with my words now, I'll work on it. And anyway, I wouldn’t break up with you or something so stu—well…over anything honestly.”

Ventus blew a bit of snow from his hair while he listened, his expression serious.

"Thank you for the sorry then." and he smiled, that warm, dependable smile, and Vanitas melted. 

_I should be the one thanking you. Thank you for laughing with me, for crying to me. For trusting me enough to bare your soul and not expect anything in return._

_For being loving and lovable. For painting and drawing when you feel inspired. For smiling. For running into me last year._

_Thank you for being you._

He cleared his throat. “I love you.”

There was a pause, and then a token of incomparable joy in the way Ventus bashfully turned away. Vanitas committed the moment to memory, memorized the pinkness of Ventus’ cheeks, the curve of his smile, the embarrassed chuckle and the way the wind gently blew his hair.

“I know,” the blond grinned. “I love you too…even though most people are dating before they say they love each other, I still love you.”

They smiled at one another, each lost in their own individual bliss. Vanitas was the first to move forward, the first to hug the other close, holding him tight enough so that he felt the other’s heartbeat against his chest, could feel the dependable thumping as though it were his own.

Ventus’ whisper: “We’re home Vanitas,” sealed the memory into place, and something buried deep into Vanitas’ heart; small and carefully placed, shivered. As he wrapped his arms around Ventus, anger didn’t guide his hands, and sarcasm, for once, didn’t find its way to his words. As he pressed his face into the curve of the other’s neck, a type of happiness, of acceptance, came over him.

Vanitas sniffled, and after years of pushing it down, finally allowed that little seed in his heart to open.

The clocktower chimed, and in response came the fireworks. From the houses came yells of muffled “Happy New Year!” and overhead, a firework cracked to life. Ventus looked to the sky, smile broadening, and Vanitas traced the movement, looked to the lights glimmering above as though the stars were falling to the Earth.

Ventus was the one to pull him in for a kiss, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck as he gave an almost breathless: “Happy New Year!” and everything felt right.

Vanitas didn’t know why he was crying, didn’t realize until Ventus and the flashing of fireworks in his eyes became blurred.

 _Why am I crying?_ Wiping the tears didn’t do anything, they kept coming, one after the other. He wasn’t suffocated, and the world wasn’t crumbling around him in the way he’d thought it was.

Ventus _loved_ him. Even though knew that he could be possessive. That he was angry. That he’d rather lash out first and dish out apologies later. He loved him even though he knew Vanitas could be brass and rude…

But he also knew that Vanitas was a good listener and a comfortable shoulder to cry on. Knew that there was kindness, genuine joy, and a willingness to be better. Knew that, through it all, Vanitas would hold himself accountable.

His old life really was crumbling away, but it was unlike the destruction of an apocalypse, it was softer. They shared a smile in the chilled night air, and with the long-awaited confirmation, Vanitas pressed his forehead against his boyfriend’s, held his hands, and felt as though the bonds of his chrysalis were, little by little, allowing his wings to spread.

Ventus, with a smile and a gentle hand to his other’s cheek, kissed him, and they both thought, as the fireworks of the New Year matched the tempo of their hearts: _Finally_.

* * *

**New Years Day**

From the car, Aqua and Terra both blinked up at the castle.

Vanitas had grown up, living in _that_?

From the front gate rushed the duo, something small and inky black wrapped in Vanitas’ arms as Ventus, quickly, checked their surroundings. The black-haired punk smiled in a way Aqua had never seen from him before, a calmness to his movements as he cradled the object.

They entered the vehicle, and both Terra and Aqua turned to look at the new arrival. It stared back, eyes blood-shot and nose angular and sharp enough to kill. Aqua turned back quickly, not knowing whether to laugh or yell, and Terra, in a low voice, spoke slowly as he stared, in confusion, at the beast.

“That’s a cute….animal.”

Ventus gave an embarrassed sigh, and Vanitas chuckled. The animal gave a half-strained noise, something between a growl and a purr, and Vanitas laughed as though it’d spoken.

“Yea, he is an idiot.”

Terra paused, not wanting to ask if he’d been talking to him or the animal, and instead, he tried for something different.

“Is that your cat?”

“Technically he’s my dad’s,” Vanitas’ smirk turned into something like an evil grin. “But I’m stealing him so if that old asshole wants him back, he’ll just have to come fight me.”

Terra blanked, and Ventus’ sigh turned into a groan. The cat, seemingly, took it as a challenge, and soon the car was filled with the groans of an embarrassed boyfriend and the caterwauling of an overly dramatic cat.

Vanitas’ laughter rose above them all, and Aqua, finally unable to hold it in, burst into her own laughter.

They laughed, and they began their trip home, their friends eagerly awaiting them. The New Year was in front of them, and for the first time, Vanitas was willing to embrace it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the fic! Vanitas has experienced gROWTH, and we are proud of him. 
> 
> Happy New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!


End file.
